msr. 


MEREDITH 
NICHOLSON 


iHrrctittb  .Birbclscm 


OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS.  With  frontispiece  in  color. 
THE     PROVINCIAL    AMERICAN     AND    OTHER 

PAPERS. 
A  HOOSIER  CHRONICLE.     With  illustrations. 

THE   SIEGE  OF  THE   SEVEN   SUITORS.     With 
illustrations. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NKW  YORK 


OTHERWISE   PHYLLIS 


PHYLLIS 


OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 


BY 


MEREDITH   NICHOLSON 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

«CI)c  tfitiersibe  press  Cambridge 

1913 


COPYRIGHT,    1913,   BY   MEREDITH    NICHOLSON 
ALL   RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  September  IQIJ 


TO 

ALBERT  B.  ANDERSON 

A  CITIZEN  OF  THE  HOOSIER  COMMONWEALTH 
WHOSE  ATTAINMENTS  AS  LAWYER  AND  JUDGE 
HAVE  ADDED  TO  THE  FAME  OF  MONTGOMERY 

THIS  BOOK  IS  INSCRIBED 
WITH  SINCERE  REGARD  AND  ADMIRATION 


2226893 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  KIRKWOODS  BREAK  CAMP  i 

II.  THE   MONTGOMERYS   OF   MONTGOMERY     .         .      14 

III.  98  BUCKEYE  LANE 34 

IV.  A  TRANSACTION  IN  APPLES        .      .      .      .51 
V.  THE  OTHERWISENESS  OF  PHYLLIS    ...    65 

VI.  THE  SMOKING-OUT  OF  AMZI       .,  .      .78 

VII.  GHOSTS  SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN         ...    91 

VIII.  LISTENING  HILL 104 

IX.  ON  AN  ORCHARD  SLOPE 113 

X.  PHIL'S  PARTY 123 

XI.  BROTHERS 144 

XII.  NAN  BARTLETT'S  DECISION        .      .      .      .158 

XIII.  THE  BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY       .  168 

XIV.  TURKEY  RUN 182 

XV.  Lois 201 

XVI.  MERRY  CHRISTMAS 217 

XVII.  PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES 241 

XVIII.  AMZI  is  FLABBERGASTED 259 

XIX.  PHIL  MOVES  TO  AMZI'S 272 

XX.  BACK  TO  STOP  SEVEN  .  281 


viii  CONTENTS 

XXI.  PHIL'S  FISTS 292 

XXII.  MR.  WATERMAN'S  GREAT  OPPORTUNITY     .  308 

XXIII.  PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET       .      .321 

XXIV.  THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN 336 

XXV.  PHIL   ENCOUNTERS  THE   SHERIFF       .         .         .   355 

XXVI.  A  CALL  IN  BUCKEYE  LANE      ....  373 

XXVII.  AMZI'S  PERFIDY 385 


OTHERWISE   PHYLLIS 


OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

CHAPTER   I 

THE   KIRKWOODS   BREAK   CAMP 

"STUFF'S  all  packed,  Phil,  and  on  the  wagon.  Camera 
safe  on  top  and  your  suit-case  tied  to  the  tail-gate.  Shall  we 
march?" 

"Not  crazy  about  it,  daddy.  Why  not  linger  another 
week?  We  can  unlimber  in  a  jiffy." 

"  It's  a  tempting  proposition,  old  lady,  but  I  have  n't  the 
nerve."  Kirkwood  dropped  an  armful  of  brush  on  the 
smouldering  camp-fire  and  stood  back  as  it  crackled  and 
flamed.  There  came  suddenly  a  low  whining  in  the  trees 
and  a  gust  of  wind  caught  the  sparks  from  the  blazing  twigs 
and  flung  them  heavenward.  He  threw  up  his  arm  and  turned 
his  hand  to  feel  the  wind.  "The  weather's  at  the  changing 
point;  there's  rain  in  that!" 

"Well,  we  have  n't  been  soaked  for  some  time,"  replied 
Phil.  "We've  been  awfully  respectable." 

"Respectable,"  laughed  her  father.  "We  don't  know  what 
the  word  means!  We're  unmitigated  vagabonds,  you  and  I, 
Phil.  If  I  did  n't  know  that  you  like  this  sort  of  thing  as  well 
as  I  do,  I  should  n't  let  you  come.  But  your  aunts  are  on 
my  trail." 

"Oh,  one's  aunts!  Oh,  one's  three  aunts !"  murmured 
Phil. 

"Not  so  lightly  to  be  scorned!  When  I  was  in  town  yes- 
terday your  Aunt  Kate  held  me  up  for  a  scolding  in  the 
post-office.  I'd  no  sooner  climbed  up  to  my  den  than 
your  Aunt  Josie  dropped  in  to  ask  what  I  had  done  with  you ; 
and  while  I  was  waiting  for  you  to  buy  shoes  at  Fisher's 


^  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

your  Aunt  Fanny  strolled  by  and  gave  me  another  over- 
hauling. It 's  a  question  whether  they  don't  bring  legal  pro- 
cess to  take  you  away  from  me.  What 's  a  father  more  or  less 
among  three  anxious  aunts!  As  near  as  I  can  make  out, 
Aunt  Fanny's  anxiety  is  chiefly  for  your  complexion.  She 
says  you  look  like  an  Indian.  And  she  implied  that  I  am 
one." 

"One  of  her  subtle  compliments.  I've  always  thought 
Indians  were  nice." 

It  was  clear  that  this  father  and  daughter  were  on  the  best 
of  terms,  and  that  admiration  was  of  the  essence  of  their 
relationship.  Phil  stooped,  picked  up  a  pebble  and  flung  it 
with  the  unconscious  grace  of  a  boy  far  down  the  creek.  Her 
Aunt  Fanny's  solicitude  for  her  complexion  was  or  was  not 
warranted;  it  depended  on  one's  standard  in  such  matters. 
Phil  was  apparently  not  alarmed  about  the  state  of  her  com- 
plexion. 

"Suppose  we  wait  for  the  moon,"  Kirkwood  suggested. 
"It  will  be  with  us  in  an  hour,  and  we  can  loaf  along  and 
still  reach  town  by  eleven.  Only  a  little  while  ago  we  had 
to  get  you  to  bed  by  eight,  and  it  used  to  bother  me  a  lot 
about  your  duds;  but  we've  outgrown  that  trouble.  I 
guess — " 

He  paused  abruptly  and  began  to  whistle  softly  to  himself. 
Phil  was  familiar  with  this  trick  of  her  father's.  She  knew  the 
processes  of  his  mind  and  the  range  of  his  memories  well 
enough  to  supply  the  conclusion  of  such  sentences  as  the  one 
that  had  resolved  itself  into  a  doleful  whistle.  As  he  was 
an  excellent  amateur  musician,  the  lugubrious  tone  of  his 
whistling  was  the  subject  of  many  jokes  between  them. 

The  walls  of  a  miniature  canon  rose  on  either  side  of  the 
creek,  and  the  light  of  the  wind-blown  camp-fire  flitted 
across  the  face  of  the  shelving  rock,  or  scampered  up  to  the 
edge  of  the  overhanging  cliff,  where  it  flashed  fitfully  against 
the  sky.  The  creek  splashed  and  foamed  through  its  rough, 
boulder-filled  channel,  knowing  that  soon  it  would  be  free 
of  the  dark  defile  and  moving  with  dignity  between  shores  of 


THE  KIRKWOODS  BREAK  GAMP  3 

corn  toward  .the  Wabash.  The  cliffs  that  enclosed  Turkey 
Run  represented  some  wild  whim  of  the  giant  ice  plow  as 
it  had  redivided  and  marked  this  quarter  of  the  world.  The 
two  tents  in  which  the  Kirkwoods  had  lodged  for  a  month 
had  been  pitched  in  a  grassy  cleft  of  the  more  accessible 
shore,  but  these  and  other  paraphernalia  of  the  camp  were 
now  packed  for  transportation  in  a  one-horse  wagon.  As  a 
fiercer  assault  of  the  wind  shook  the  vale,  the  horse  whinnied 
and  pawed  impatiently. 

"Cheer  up,  Billo!  We're  going  soon!"  called  Phil. 

Kirkwood  stood  by  the  fire,  staring  silently  into  the  flames. 
Phil,  having  reassured  Billo,  drew  a  little  away  from  her 
father.  In  earlier  times  when  moods  of  abstraction  fell  upon 
him,  she  had  sought  to  rouse  him;  but  latterly  she  had 
learned  the  wisdom  and  kindness  of  silence.  She  knew  that 
this  annual  autumnal  gypsying  held  for  him  the  keenest 
delight  and,  in  another  and  baffling  phase,  a  poignancy  on 
which,  as  she  had  grown  to  womanhood,  it  had  seemed 
impious  to  allow  her  imagination  to  play.  She  watched  him 
now  with  the  pity  that  was  woven  into  her  love  for  him :  his 
tall  figure  and  the  slightly  stooped  shoulders;  the  round  felt 
hat  that  crowned  his  thick,  close-cut  hair,  the  dejection  that 
seemed  expressed  in  so  many  trifles  at  such  moments,  —  as 
in  his  manner  of  dropping  his  hands  loosely  into  the  pockets 
of  his  corduroy  coat,  and  standing  immovable.  Without 
taking  his  eyes  from  the  fire  he  sat  down  presently  on  a  log 
and  she  saw  him  fumbling  for  his  pipe  and  tobacco.  He  bent 
to  thrust  a  chip  into  the  fire  with  the  deliberation  that 
marked  his  movements  in  these  moods.  Now  and  then  he 
took  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  she  knew  the  look  that 
had  come  into  his  gray  eyes,  though  she  saw  only  the  profile 
of  his  bearded  face  as  the  firelight  limned  it. 

Now,  as  at  other  such  times,  on  summer  evenings  in  the 
little  garden  at  home,  or  on  winter  nights  before  the  fire  in 
their  sitting-room,  she  felt  that  he  should  be  left  to  himself; 
that  his  spirit  traversed  realms  beyond  boundaries  she  might 
not  cross ;  and  that  in  a  little  while  his  reverie  would  end  and 


4  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

he  would  rise  and  fling  up  his  long  arms  and  ask  whether  it 
was  breakfast- time  or  time  to  go  to  bed. 

Phil  Kirkwood  was  eighteen,  a  slim,  brown,  graceful 
creature,  with  a  habit  of  carrying  her  chin  a  little  high;  a 
young  person  who  seemed  to  be  enjoying  flights  into  the 
realm  of  reverie  at  times,  and  then,  before  you  were  aware 
of  it,  was  off,  away  out  of  sight  and  difficult  to  catch  with 
hand  or  eye.  As  a  child  this  abruptness  had  been  amusing; 
now  that  she  was  eighteen  her  aunts  had  begun  to  be  dis- 
tressed by  it.  Her  critics  were  driven  to  wild  things  for 
comparisons.  She  was  as  quick  as  a  swallow;  and  yet  a 
conscientious  ornithologist  would  have  likened  her  in  her 
moments  of  contemplation  to  the  thrush  for  demureness. 
And  a  robin  hopping  across  a  meadow,  alert  in  all  his 
mysterious  senses,  was  not  more  alive  than  Phil  in  action. 
Her  middle-aged  aunts  said  she  was  impudent,  but  this 
did  not  mean  impudent  speech;  it  was  Phil's  silences  that 
annoyed  her  aunts  and  sometimes  embarrassed  or  dismayed 
other  people.  Her  brown  eye  could  be  very  steady  and 
wholly  respectful  when,  at  the  same  time,  there  was  a  sus- 
picious twitching  of  her  thread-of-scarlet  lips.  The  aunts 
were  often  outraged  by  her  conduct.  Individually  and  col- 
lectively they  had  endeavored  to  correct  her  grievous 
faults,  and  she  had  received  their  instructions  meekly.  But 
what  could  one  do  with  a  mild  brown  eye  that  met  the  gaze 
of  aunts  so  steadily  and  submissively,  while  her  lips  be- 
trayed quite  other  emotions ! 

Phil's  clothes  were  another  source  of  distress.  She  hated 
hats  and  in  open  weather  rejected  them  altogether.  A  tam- 
o'-shanter  was  to  her  liking,  and  a  boy's  cap  was  even  better. 
The  uniform  of  the  basketball  team  at  high  school  suited  her 
perfectly ;  and  yet  her  unreasonable  aunts  had  made  a  fright- 
ful row  when  she  wore  it  as  a  street  garb.  She  gave  this  up, 
partly  to  mollify  the  aunts,  but  rather  more  to  save  her 
father  from  the  annoyance  of  their  complaints.  She  clung, 
however,  to  her  sweater, — on  which  a  large  "M"  advertised 
her  alma  mater  most  indecorously,  —  and  in  spite  of  the 


THE  KIRKWOODS  BREAK  GAMP  5 

aunts'  vigilance  she  occasionally  appeared  at  Center  Church 
in  tan  shoes;  which  was  not  what  one  had  a  right  to  expect 
of  a  great-granddaughter  of  Amzi  I,  whose  benevolent  coun- 
tenance, framed  for  adoration  in  the  Sunday-School  room, 
spoke  for  the  conservative  traditions  of  the  town  honored 
with  his  name. 

Phil  had  no  sense  of  style;  her  aunts  were  agreed  on  this. 
Her  hair-ribbons  rarely  matched  her  stockings;  and  the 
stockings  on  agile  legs  like  Phil's,  that  were  constantly 
dancing  in  the  eyes  of  all  Montgomery,  should,  by  all  the 
canons  of  order  and  decency,  present  holeless  surfaces  to 
captious  critics.  That  they  frequently  did  not  was  a  shame, 
a  reproach,  a  disgrace,  but  no  fault,  we  may  be  sure,  of  the 
anxious  aunts.  Manifestly  Phil  had  no  immediate  intention 
of  growing  up.  The  idea  of  being  a  young  lady  did  not  inter- 
est her.  In  June  of  this  particular  year  she  had  been  gradu- 
ated from  the  Montgomery  High  School,  in  a  white  dress  and 
(noteworthy  achievement  of  the  combined  aunts!)  impec- 
cable white  shoes  and  stockings.  Pink  ribbons  (pink  being 
the  class  color)  had  enhanced  the  decorative  effect  of  the 
gown  and  a  pink  bow  had  given  a  becoming  touch  of  grace 
to  her  head.  Phil's  hair — brown  in  shadow  and  gold  in 
sunlight  —  was  washed  by  Montgomery's  house-to-house 
hairdresser  whenever  Aunt  Fanny  could  corner  Phil  for  the 
purpose. 

Phil's  general  effect  was  of  brownness.  Midwinter  never 
saw  the  passing  of  the  tan  from  her  cheek;  her  vigorous 
young  fists  were  always  brown;  when  permitted  a  choice  she 
chose  brown  clothes:  she  was  a  brown  girl. 

Speaking  of  Phil's  graduation,  it  should  be  mentioned  that 
she  had  contributed  a  ten-minute  oration  to  the  commence- 
ment exercises,  its  subject  being  "The  Dogs  of  Main  Street." 
This  was  not  conceded  a  place  on  the  programme  without  a 
struggle.  The  topic  was  frivolous  and  without  precedent; 
moreover,  it  was  unliterary  —  a  heinous  offense,  difficult  of 
condonation.  To  admit  the  dogs  of  Main  Street  to  a  high- 


6  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

school  commencement,  an  affair  of  pomp  and  ceremony  held 
in  Hastings's  Theater,  was  not  less  than  shocking.  It  had 
seemed  so  to  the  principal,  but  he  knew  Phil;  and  knowing 
Phil  he  laughed  when  the  English  teacher  protested  that  it 
would  compromise  her  professional  dignity  to  allow  a  stu- 
dent to  discuss  the  vagrant  canines  of  Main  Street  in  a  com- 
mencement essay.  She  had  expected  Phil  to  prepare  a  the- 
sis on  "What  the  Poets  Have  Meant  to  Me,"  and  for  this 
"The  Dogs  of  Main  Street"  was  no  proper  substitute.  The 
superintendent  of  schools,  scanning  the  programme  before  it 
went  to  the  printer,  shuddered;  but  it  was  not  for  naught 
that  Phil's  "people"  were  of  Montgomery's  elect. 

Phil  was,  in  fact,  a  Montgomery.  Her  great-grandfather, 
Amzi  Montgomery,  observing  the  unpopulous  Hoosier  land- 
scape with  a  shrewd  eye,  had,  in  the  year  of  grace  1829, 
opened  a  general  store  on  the  exact  spot  now  occupied  by 
Montgomery's  Bank,  and  the  proper  authorities  a  few  years 
later  called  the  name  of  the  place  Montgomery,  which  it 
remains  to  this  day.  This  explains  why  the  superintendent 
of  schools  overlooked  the  temerity  of  Amzi's  great-grand- 
daughter in  electing  the  Main  Street  fauna  as  the  subject 
of  her  commencement  address  rather  than  her  indebtedness 
to  the  poets,  though  it  may  not  be  illuminative  as  to  the 
holes  in  Phil's  stockings.  But  on  this  point  we  shall  be  en- 
lightened later. 

Phil  raised  her  head.  There  had  come  a  lull  in  the  whisper 
of  the  weather  spirit  in  the  sycamores,  and  she  was  aware 
of  a  sound  that  was  not  the  noise  of  the  creek  among  the 
boulders.  It  was  a  strain  of  music  not  of  nature's  making  and 
Phil's  healthy  young  curiosity  was  instantly  aroused  by  it. 
Her  father  maintained  his  lonely  vigil  by  the  fire,  quite 
oblivious  of  her  and  of  all  things.  She  caught  another  strain, 
and  then  began  climbing  the  cliff. 

The  ascent  was  difficult,  but  she  drew  herself  up  swiftly, 
catching  at  bushes,  seeking  with  accustomed  feet  the  secure 
limestone  ledges  that  promised  safety,  pausing  to  listen  when 
bits  of  loosened  stone  fell  behind  her.  Finally,  catching  the 


THE  KIRKWOODS  BREAK  GAMP  7 

protruding  roots  of  a  great  sycamore  whose  shadow  had 
guided  her,  she  gained  the  top.  The  moon,  invisible  in  the 
vale,  now  greeted  her  as  it  rose  superbly  above  a  dark  wood- 
land across  a  wide  stretch  of  intervening  field.  But  there 
were  nearer  lights  than  those  of  star  and  moon,  and  their 
presence  afforded  her  a  thrill  of  surprise. 

Clearer  now  came  the  strains  of  music.  Here  was  a  com- 
bination of  phenomena  that  informed  the  familiar  region 
with  strangeness.  The  music  came  from  a  barn,  and  she 
remembered  that  barn  well  as  a  huge,  gloomy  affair  on  the 
Holton  farm.  Satisfied  of  this,  Phil  turned,  half -uncon- 
sciously, and  glanced  up,  at  the  sycamore.  That  hoary  old 
landmark  defined  a  boundary,  and  a  boundary  which,  on 
various  accounts,  it  was  incumbent  upon  the  great-grand- 
daughter of  Amzi  Montgomery  I  to  observe.  A  dividing 
fence  ran  from  the  sycamore,  straight  toward  the  moon.  It 
was  a  "  stake-and-rider  "  fence,  and  the  notches  on  the  Hol- 
ton side  of  it  were  filled  with  wild  raspberry,  elderberry,  and 
weeds;  but  on  the  Montgomery  side  these  interstices  were 
free  of  such  tangle.  The  fact  that  lights  and  music  advertised 
the  Holton  farm  to  the  eye  and  ear  seemed  to  Phil  a  matter 
worthy  of  her  attention.  The  corn  was  in  the  shock  on  the 
Montgomery  side;  the  adjacent  Holton  field  had  lain  fallow 
that  year.  The  shocks  of  corn  suggested  to  Phil's  imagina- 
tion the  tents  of  an  unsentineled  host  or  an  abandoned  camp ; 
but  she  walked  fearlessly  toward  the  lights  and  music,  bent 
upon  investigation.  The  moon  would  not  for  some  time 
creep  high  enough  to  light  the  valley  and  disturb  her  father's 
vigil  by  the  camp-fire :  there  need  be  no  haste,  for  even  if  he 
missed  her  he  would  not  be  alarmed. 

The  old  Holton  house  and  its  outbuildings  lay  near  the 
fence  and  Phil  calculated  that  without  leaving  her  ancestral 
acres  she  would  be  able  to  determine  exactly  the  nature  and 
extent  of  this  unprecedented  revelry  in  the  Holton  barn. 
She  approached  as  near  as  possible  and  rested  her  arms  on 
the  rough  top  rail  of  the  fence.  There  were  doors  on  both 
sides  of  the  lumbering  old  structure,  and  her  tramp  across 


8  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

the  cornfield  was  rewarded  by  a  comprehensive  view  of  the 
scene  within.  The  music  ceased  and  she  heard  voices  —  gay, 
happy  voices —  greeting  some  late-comers  whose  automobile 
had  just  "chug-chugged"  into  the  barnyard.  She  saw,  be- 
yond the  brilliantly  lighted  interior,  the  motors  and  car- 
riages that  had  conveyed  the  company  to  the  dance;  and 
she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  farmhouse  itself,  where  doubtless 
refreshments  were  even  now  in  readiness.  Phil  was  far 
enough  away  to  be  safe  from  observation  and  yet  near  enough 
to  identify  many  of  the  dancers.  They  were  chiefly  young 
people  she  had  known  all  her  life,  and  the  strangers  were 
presumably  friends  of  the  Holtons  from  Indianapolis  and 
elsewhere. 

The  strains  of  a  familiar  waltz  caused  a  quick  reassem- 
bling of  the  dancers.  The  music  tingled  in  Phil's  blood.  She 
kept  time  with  head  and  hands,  and  then,  swinging  round, 
began  dancing,  humming  the  air  as  her  figure  swayed  and 
bent  to  its  cadences.  By  some  whim  the  nearest  corn-shock 
became  the  center  of  her  attention.  Round  and  round  it 
she  moved,  with  a  child's  abandon;  and  now  that  the 
moon's  full  glory  lay  upon  the  fields,  her  shadow  danced 
mockingly  with  her.  Fauns  and  nymphs  tripped  thus  to  wild 
music  in  the  enchanted  long  ago  when  the  world  was  young. 
Hers  was  the  lightest,  the  most  fantastic  of  irresponsible 
shadows.  It  was  not  the  mere  reflection  of  her  body,  but  a 
prefigurement  of  her  buoyant  spirit,  that  had  escaped  from 
her  control  and  tauntingly  eluded  capture.  Her  mind  had 
never  known  a  morbid  moment;  she  had  never  feared  the 
dark,  without  or  within.  And  this  was  her  private  affair  —  a 
joke  between  her  and  the  moon  and  the  earth.  It  was  for 
the  moment  all  hers  —  earth  and  heaven,  the  mystery  of  the 
stars,  the  slumbering  power  of  a  beneficent  land  that  only 
yesterday  had  vouchsafed  its  kindly  fruits  in  reward  of  man's 
labor. 

After  a  breathless  interval  a  two-step  followed,  and  Phil 
danced  again,  seizing  a  corn-stalk  and  holding  it  above  her 
head  with  both  hands  like  a  wand.  When  the  music  ended 


THE  KIRKWOODS  BREAK  CAMP  9 

she  poised  on  tiptoe  and  flung  the  stalk  far  from  her  toward 
the  barn  as  though  it  were  a  javelin.  Then  as  she  took  a  step 
toward  the  fence  she  was  aware  that  some  one  had  been 
watching  her.  It  was,  indeed,  a  nice  question  whether  the 
flying  stalk  had  not  grazed  the  ear  of  a  man  who  stood  on 
Holton  soil,  his  arms  resting  on  the  rail  just  as  hers  had  been 
ten  minutes  earlier,  and  near  the  same  spot. 

"  "Lo!"  gasped  Phil  breathlessly. 

"'Lo!" 

They  surveyed  each  other  calmly  in  the  moonlight.  The 
young  man  beyond  the  fence  straightened  and  removed  his 
hat.  He  had  been  watching  her  antics  round  the  corn-shock 
and  Phil  resented  it. 

"What  were  you  doing  that  for?"  she  demanded  indig- 
nantly, her  hands  in  her  sweater  pockets. 

"Doing  what,  for  instance?" 

"Watchingme.  It  was  n't  fair." 

"Oh,  I  liked  your  dancing;  that  was  all." 

"Oh!" 

An  "Oh"  let  fall  with  certain  intonations  is  a  serious  im- 
pediment to  conversation.  The  young  gentleman  seemed 
unable  at  this  crucial  instant  to  think  of  a  fitting  reply. 
Finding  himself  unequal  to  a  response  in  her  own  key  he 
merely  said :  — 

" I'm  sorry.  I  really  did  n't  mean  to.  I  came  over  here  to 
sit  on  the  fence  and  watch  the  party." 

"Watch  it!  Why  don't  you  go  in  and  dance?" 

He  glanced  down  as  though  to  suggest  that  if  Phil  were  to 
scrutinize  his  raiment  she  might  very  readily  understand 
why,  instead  of  being  among  the  dancers,  he  contented  him- 
self with  watching  them  from  a  convenient  fence  corner.  He 
carried  a  crumpled  coat  on  his  arm;  the  collar  of  his  flannel 
shirt  was  turned  up  round  his  throat.  His  hat  was  of  battered 
felt  with  a  rent  in  the  creased  crown. 

"My  brother  and  sister  are  giving  the  party.  I'm  not  in 
it." 

"  I  suppose  your  invitation  got  lost  in  the  mail,"  suggested 


io  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Phil,  this  being  a  form  of  explanation  frequently  proffered 
by  local  humorists  for  their  failure  to  appear  at  Montgomery 
functions. 

"Nothing  like  that!  I  did  n't  expect  to  be  here  to-day.  In 
fact,  I  Ve  been  off  trying  to  borrow  a  team  of  horses;  one  of 
mine  went  lame.  I've  just  brought  them  home,  and  I'm 
wondering  how  long  I've  got  to  wait  before  the  rumpus  is 
over  and  those  folks  get  out  of  there  and  give  the  horses  a 
chance.  It's  going  to  rain  before  morning." 

Phil  had  heard  the  same  prognostication  from  her  father, 
and  it  was  in  the  young  man's  favor  that  he  was  wise  in 
weather  lore.  The  musicians  had  begun  to  play  a  popular 
barn  dance,  and  the  two  spectators  watched  the  dancers 
catch  step  to  it.  Then  Phil,  having  by  this  time  drawn  a  trifle 
closer  to  the  fence  and  been  reassured  by  her  observations  of 
the  clean-shaven  face  of  the  young  man,  became  personal. 

"Are  you  Charlie  Holton?" 

"No;  Fred.   Charlie  's  my  brother." 

"And  your  sister's  name  is  Ethel." 

"O.  K.  I'm  trying  to  figure  you  out.  If  you  were  n't  so 
tall  I'd  guess  you  were  Phyllis  Kirkwood." 

"That's  all  of  my  name,"  replied  Phil.  " I  remember  you 
now,  but  you  must  have  been  away  a  long  time.  I  had  n't 
heard  that  anybody  was  living  over  there." 

"The  family  have  n't  been  here  much  since  I  was  a  kid. 
They  have  moved  out  their  things.  What's  left  is  mine." 

Mr.  Frederick  Holton  turned  and  extended  the  hand  that 
held  his  hat  with  a  comprehensive  gesture.  There  was  a 
tinge  of  irony  in  his  tone  that  Phil  did  not  miss.  "What's 
left  here  —  house,  barn,  and  land  —  belongs  to  me.  The 
town  house  has  been  sold  and  Charlie  and  Ethel  have  come 
out  here  to  say  good-bye  to  the  farm." 

"Oh!" 

This  time  Phil's  "Oh"  connoted  mild  surprise,  polite 
interest,  and  faint  curiosity. 

The  wind  rustled  the  leaves  among  the  corn-shocks.  The 
moon  gazed  benevolently  upon  the  barn,  tolerant  of  the 


THE  KIRKWOODS  BREAK  GAMP         n 

impertinence  of  man-made  light  and  a  gayety  that  was 
wholly  inconsonant  with  her  previous  knowledge  of  this 
particular  bit  of  landscape. 

Fred  Holton  did  not  amplify  his  last  statement,  so  Phil's 
"  Oh,"  in  so  far  as  it  expressed  curiosity  as  to  the  disposition 
of  the  Holton  territory  and  Mr.  Frederick  Holton's  relation 
to  it,  seemed  destined  to  no  immediate  satisfaction. 

"  I  must  skip,"  remarked  Phil;  though  she  did  not,  in  fact, 
skip  at  once. 

"Staying  over  at  your  grandfather's?"  The  young  man's 
arm  pointed  toward  the  north  and  the  venerable  farmhouse 
long  occupied  by  tenants  of  the  Montgomerys. 

Old  Amzi  had  acquired  much  land  in  his  day  and  his 
grandson,  Amzi  III,  clung  to  most  of  it.  But  this  little 
availed  Phil,  as  we  shall  see.  Still  it  was  conceivable  and 
pardonable  that  Fred  Holton  should  assume  that  Phil  was 
domiciled  upon  soil  to  which  she  had  presumably  certain 
inalienable  rights. 

" No;  I  Ve  been  camping  and  my  father's  waiting  for  me 
down  there  in  Turkey  Run.  We've  been  here  a  month." 

"It  must  be  good  fun,  camping  that  way." 

"Oh,  rather!  But  it's  tough  —  the  going  home  afterwards." 

"  I  hate  towns  myself.  I  expect  to  have  some  fun  out  here." 

"I  heard  this  farm  had  been  sold,"  remarked  Phil  lead- 
ingly. 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  amounts  to  that.  They  were  dividing 
up  father's  estate,  and  I  drew  it." 

"Well,  it's  not  so  much  to  look  at,"  remarked  Phil,  as 
though  the  appraisement  of  farm  property  were  quite  in  the 
line  of  her  occupations.  "I've  been  across  your  pasture  a 
number  of  times  on  my  way  to  Uncle  Amzi's  for  milk,  but  I 
did  n't  know  any  one  was  living  here.  One  can  hardly  men- 
tion your  farm  in  terms  of  grandeur  or  splendor." 

Fred  Holton  laughed,  a  cheerful,  pleasant  laugh.  Phil  had 
not  thought  of  it  before,  but  she  decided  now  that  she  liked 
him.  His  voice  was  agreeable,  and  she  noted  his  slight  drawl. 
Phil's  father,  who  was  born  in  the  Berkshires,  said  all 


12  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Hoosiers  drawled.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Phil,  who  was  indu- 
bitably a  Hoosier,  did  not,  save  in  a  whimsical  fashion  of  her 
own,  to  give  a  humorous  turn  to  the  large  words  with  which 
she  sometimes  embellished  her  conversation.  Her  father  said 
that  her  freedom  from  the  drawl  was  no  fault  of  the  Mont- 
gomery High  School,  but  attributable  to  his  own  vigilance. 

Phil  knew  that  it  was  unseemly  to  be  talking  across  a 
fence  to  a  strange  young  man,  particularly  when  her  father 
was  doubtless  waiting  for  her  to  return  for  the  homeward 
journey;  and  she  knew  that  she  was  guilty  of  a  grievous 
offense  in  talking  to  a  Holton  in  any  circumstances.  Still 
the  situation  appealed  to  her  imagination.  There  hung  the 
moon,  patron  goddess  of  such  encounters,  and  here  were 
fields  of  mystery. 

"They  say  it's  no  good,  do  they?  They're  right.  I  know 
all  about  it,  so  you  don't  need  to  be  sorry  for  me." 

Sensitiveness  spoke  here;  obviously  others  had  made  the 
mistake,  of  which  she  would  not  be  guilty,  of  sympathizing 
with  him  in  his  possession  of  these  unprofitable  acres.  Phil 
had  no  intention  of  being  sorry  for  him.  She  rather  liked 
him  for  not  wanting  her  sympathy,  though  to  be  sure  there 
was  no  reason  why  he  should  have  expected  it. 

"You've  been  living  in  Indianapolis?" 

"The  folks  have.  Father  died,  you  know,  nearly  two 
years  ago.  I  was  in  Mexico,  and  now  I  'm  back  to  stay." 

"I  suppose  you  learned  farming  in  Mexico?"  Phil  pur- 
sued. 

"Well,  hardly!   Mining;  no  silver;  quit." 

"Oh,"  said  Phil,  and  filed  his  telegram  for  reference. 

They  watched  the  dance  for  a  few  minutes. 

"What's  that?" 

Phil  started  guiltily  as  Holton  turned  his  head  toward  the 
creek,  listening.  Her  father  was  sounding  the  immelodious 
fish-horn  which  he  called  their  signal  corps.  He  must  have 
become  alarmed  by  her  long  absence  or  he  would  not  have 
resorted  to  it,  and  she  recalled  with  shame  that  it  had  been 
buried  in  a  soap-box  with  minor  cooking-utensils  at  the 


THE  KIRKWOODS  BREAK  GAMP          13 

bottom  of  the  wagon,  and  could  not  have  been  resurrected 
without  trouble. 

"Good-bye!"  She  ran  swiftly  across  the  field  toward  the 
creek.  The  horn,  sounding  at  intervals  in  long  raucous  blasts, 
roused  Phil  to  her  best  speed.  She  ran  boy  fashion  with  her 
head  down,  elbows  at  her  sides.  Fred  Holton  watched  her 
until  she  disappeared. 

He  made  a  detour  of  the  barn,  followed  a  lane  that  led  to 
the  town  road,  and  waited,  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  walnut 
at  the  edge  of  a  pasture.  He  was  soon  rewarded  by  the  sound 
of  wheels  coming  up  from  the  creek,  and  in  a  moment  the 
one-horse  wagon  bearing  Phil  and  her  father  passed  slowly. 
He  heard  their  voices  distinctly;  Kirkwood  was  chaffing  Phil 
for  her  prolonged  absence.  Their  good  comradeship  was 
evident  in  their  laughter,  subdued  to  the  mood  of  the  still, 
white  night.  Fred  Holton  was  busy  reconstructing  all  his 
previous  knowledge  of  the  Kirkwoods,  and  he  knew  a  good 
deal  about  them,  now  that  he  thought  of  it. 

At  the  crest  of  Listening  Hill,  —  so  called  from  the  fact 
that  in  old  times  farm-boys  had  listened  there  for  wandering 
cows,  —  the  wagon  lingered  for  a  moment  —  an  act  of 
mercy  to  the  horse  —  and  the  figures  of  father  and  daughter 
were  mistily  outlined  against  the  sky.  Then  they  resumed 
their  journey  and  Fred  slowly  crossed  the  fields  toward  the 
barn. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY 

A  STOUT,  spectacled  gentleman  of  fifty  or  thereabouts 
appeared  at  intervals,  every  business  day  of  the  year,  on  the 
steps  of  Montgomery's  Bank,  at  the  corner  of  Main  and 
Franklin  Streets.  As  he  stood  on  this  pedestal,  wearing, 
winter  and  summer,  a  blue-and-white  seersucker  office  coat 
tightly  buttoned  about  his  pudgy  form,  and  frequently  with 
an  ancient  straw  hat  perched  on  the  side  of  his  head,  it  was 
fair  to  assume  that  he  was  in  some  way  connected  with  the 
institution  from  whose  doors  he  emerged.  This  was,  indeed, 
the  fact,  and  any  intelligent  child  could  have  enlightened  a 
stranger  as  to  the  name  of  the  stout  gentleman  indicated. 
He  was  one  of  the  first  citizens  of  the  community,  if  wealth, 
probity,  and  long  residence  may  be  said  to  count  for  any- 
thing. And  his  name,  which  it  were  absurd  longer  to  conceal, 
was  Amzi  Montgomery,  or,  to  particularize,  Amzi  Mont- 
gomery III.  As  both  his  father  and  his  grandfather  who  had 
borne  the  same  name  slept  peacefully  in  Greenlawn,  it  is 
unnecessary  t*o  continue  in  this  narrative  the  numerical  des- 
ignation of  this  living  Amzi  who  braved  the  worst  of  weathers 
to  inspect  the  moving  incidents  of  Main  Street  as  a  relief 
from  the  strain  and  stress  of  the  business  of  a  private  banker. 

When,  every  hour  or  so,  Mr.  Montgomery,  exposing  a 
pink  bald  head  to  the  elements,  glanced  up  and  down  the 
street,  usually  with  a  cigar  planted  resolutely  in  the  corner 
of  his  mouth,  it  was  commonly  believed  that  he  saw  ev- 
erything that  was  happening,  not  only  in  Main  Street,  but 
in  all  the  shops  and  in  the  rival  banking-houses  distributed 
along  that  thoroughfare.  After  surveying  the  immediate 
scene,  —  having,  for  example,  noted  the  customers  waiting 
at  the  counter  of  the  First  National  Bank,  diagonally  oppo- 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY   15 

site,  —  something  almost  invariably  impelled  his  glance 
upward  to  the  sign  of  a  painless  dentist,  immediately  above 
the  First  National,  —  a  propinquity  which  had  caused  a 
wag  (one  of  the  Montgomery's  customers)  to  express  the 
hope  that  the  dentist  was  more  painless  than  the  bank  in  his 
extractions. 

There  was  a  clothing  store  directly  opposite  Amzi's  bank, 
and  his  wandering  eye  could  not  have  failed  to  observe  the 
lettering  on  the  windows  of  the  office  above  it,  which,  in 
badly  scratched  gilt,  published  the  name  of  Thomas  Kirk- 
wood,  Attorney  at  Law,  to  the  litigiously  inclined.  Still 
higher  on  the  third  and  final  story  of  the  building  hung  a 
photographer's  sign  in  a  dilapidated  condition,  and  though  a 
studio  skylight  spoke  further  of  photography,  almost  every 
one  knew  that  the  artist  had  departed  years  ago,  and  that 
Tom  Kirkwoocl  had  never  found  another  tenant  for  those 
upper  rooms. 

At  two  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  the 
return  of  Phil  Kirkwood  and  her  father  from  their  camp  on 
Sugar  Creek,  as  Mr.  Montgomery  appeared  upon  the  steps 
of  the  bank  and  gazed  with  his  usual  unconcern  up  and  down 
Main  Street,  his  spectacles  pointed  finally  (or  so  it  seemed) 
to  the  photographer's  studio  over  the  way.  Although  a  slight 
mist  was  falling  and  umbrellas  bobbed  inanely  in  the  fashion 
of  umbrellas,  Amzi  in  his  seersucker  coat  was  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  weather's  inclemency.  One  of  the  windows 
of  the  abandoned  photograph  gallery  was  open,  and  sud- 
denly, without  the  slightest  warning,  the  head  of  Miss  Phyllis 
Kirkwood  bent  over  the  cornice  and  she  waved  her  hand 
with  unmistakable  friendliness.  It  was  then  that  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery, as  though  replying  to  a  signal,  detached  his  left 
hand  from  its  pocket,  made  a  gesture  as  graceful  as  a  man 
of  his  figure  is  capable  of,  and  then,  allaying  suspicion  by 
passing  the  hand  across  his  bald  head,  he  looked  quickly 
toward  the  court-house  tower  and  immediately  withdrew  to 
continue  his  active  supervision  of  the  four  clerks  who  sufficed 
for  his  bank's  business. 


1 6  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

As  depositors  were  now  bringing  to  the  receiving  teller's 
window  their  day's  offerings,  Mr.  Montgomery  took  his 
stand  at  the  paying  teller's  window,  —  a  part  of  his  usual 
routine,  —  to  relieve  the  pressure  incident  to  the  closing 
hour,  one  teller  at  other  times  being  quite  equal  to  the  de- 
mands of  both  departments.  Mr.  Montgomery's  manner  of 
paying  a  check  was  in  itself  individual.  He  laid  his  cigar  on 
the  edge  of  the  counter,  passed  the  time  of  day  with  a  slightly 
asthmatic  voice,  drew  the  check  toward  him  with  the  tips 
of  his  fingers,  read  it,  cocked  an  eye  at  the  indorsement,  and 
counted  out  the  money  with  a  bored  air.  If  silver  entered 
into  the  transaction,  he  usually  rang  the  last  coin  absently 
on  the  glass  surface  of  the  counter. 

In  other  times  the  sign  on  the  window  had  proclaimed 
"Montgomery  &  Holton,  Bankers";  and  the  deletion  of  the 
second  name  from  the  copartnership  was  due  to  an  incident 
that  must  be  set  down  succinctly  before  we  proceed  further. 
Amzi  II  had  left  a  family  of  five  children,  of  whom  Phil 
Kirkwood's  three  aunts  have  already  been  mentioned.  The 
only  one  of  the  Montgomery  girls,  as  they  were  locally  desig- 
nated, who  had  made  a  marriage  at  all  in  keeping  with  the 
family  dignity,  had  been  Lois. 

Lois,  every  one  said,  was  the  handsomest,  the  most  inter- 
esting of  the  Montgomerys,  and  she  had  captured  at  eight- 
een the  heart  of  Tom  Kirkwood,  who  had  come  out  of  the 
East  to  assume  the  chair  of  jurisprudence  in  Madison  Col- 
lege, which,  as  every  one  knows,  is  an  institution  insepa- 
rably associated  with  the  fame  of  Montgomery  as  a  com- 
munity of  enlightenment.  Tom  Kirkwood  was  a  graduate  of 
Williams  College,  with  a  Berlin  Ph.D.,  and  he  had,  moreover, 
a  modest  patrimony  which,  after  his  marriage  to  Lois  Mont- 
gomery, he  had  invested  in  the  block  in  Main  Street  opposite 
the  Montgomery  Bank.  The  year  following  the  marriage  he 
had,  in  keeping  with  an  early  resolution,  resigned  his  pro- 
fessorship and  begun  the  practice  of  law.  He  seemed  to 
have  escaped  the  embarrassments  and  prejudices  that  attend 
any  practical  undertakings  by  men  who  have  borne  the  title 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY   17 

of  professor,  and  whether  his  connection  with  the  Mont- 
gomery family  saved  him  from  such  disqualification  it  was 
nevertheless  true  that  he  entered  upon  the  law  brilliantly. 
Two  or  three  successes  in  important  cases  had  launched 
him  upon  this  second  career  auspiciously. 

Amzi  II  was  still  living  at  the  time  of  the  marriage,  and 
as  he  valued  his  own  position  in  the  community  and  wished 
his  family  to  maintain  its  traditions,  he  had  subdivided  a  large 
tract  of  woodland  in  which  his  father's  house  stood,  and  be- 
stowed an  acre  lot  upon  each  of  his  daughters.  His  son  had  de- 
clined a  similar  offer,  having  elected  early  in  life  the  bachelor 
state  in  which  we  have  found  him.  As  Lois  had  been  the  first 
to  marry,  her  house  was  planted  nearest  to  the  gray  old 
brick  in  which  she  had  been  reared. 

If  the  gods  favored  the  Montgomerys,  they  seemed  no  less 
to  smile  with  a  peculiar  indulgence  upon  the  Kirkwoods. 
People  who  had  said  that  Lois  was  a  trifle  strong-willed  and 
given  to  frivolity  were  convinced  that  her  marriage  had  done 
much  to  sober  her.  In  the  second  year  thereafter  Phyllis 
was  born,  a  further  assurance  that  Lois  was  thoroughly 
established  among  the  staid  matrons  of  her  native  town. 
Then  in  the  fifth  year  of  her  marriage,  rumors — almost  the 
first  scandalous  gossip  that  had  ever  passed  current  in  those 
quiet  streets  —  began  to  be  heard.  It  did  not  seem  possible 
that  in  a  community  whose  morals  were  nurtured  in  Center 
Church,  a  town  where  everybody  was  "good,"  where  no 
respectable  man  ever  entered  a  saloon  and  divorce  was 
a  word  not  to  be  spoken  before  children,  —  that  here,  a 
daughter  of  the  house  of  Montgomery  was  causing  anxiety 
among  those  jealous  of  her  good  name.  A  few  of  Kirkwood's 
friends  —  and  he  had  many  —  may  have  known  the  inner 
history  of  the  cloud  that  darkened  his  house;  but  the  end 
came  with  a  blinding  flash  that  left  him  dazed  and  dumb. 

The  town  was  so  knit  together,  so  like  a  big  family,  that 
Lois  Montgomery's  escapade  was  a  tragedy  at  every  hearth- 
side.  It  was  immeasurably  shocking  that  a  young  woman 
married  to  a  reputable  man,  and  with  a  child  still  toddling 


1 8  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

after  her,  should  have  done  this  grievous  thing.  To  say  that 
she  had  always  been  flighty , 'and  that  it  was  what  might  have 
been  expected  of  a  woman  as  headstrong  as  she  had  been  as  a 
girl,  was  no  mollification  of  the  blow  to  the  local  conscience, 
acutely  sensitive  in  all  that  pertained  to  the  honor  and 
sanctity  of  the  marriage  tie.  And  Jack  Holton!  That  she 
should  have  thrown  away  a  man  like  Tom  Kirkwood,  a  gen- 
tleman and  a  scholar,  for  a  rogue  like  Holton,  added  to  the 
blackness  of  her  sin.  The  Holtons  had  been  second  only  to 
the  Montgomerys  in  dignity.  The  conjunction  of  the  names 
on  the  old  sign  over  the  bank  at  Main  and  Franklin  Streets 
had  expressed  not  only  unquestioned  financial  stability,  but 
a  social  worth  likewise  unassailable.  Jack  Holton,  like  Amzi 
Montgomery,  had  inherited  an  interest  in  the  banking-house 
of  Montgomery  &  Holton.  To  be  sure  his  brother  William 
had  been  the  active  representative  of  the  second  generation 
of  Holtons,  and  Jack  had  never  really  settled  down  to  any- 
thing after  he  returned  from  the  Eastern  college  to  which  he 
had  been  sent;  but  these  were  things  that  had  not  been  con- 
sidered until  after  he  decamped  with  Lois  Kirkwood.  Many 
declared  after  the  event  that  they  had  "always  known "  that 
Jack  was  a  bad  lot.  Those  who  sought  to  account  for  Lois 
Kirkwood 's  infatuation  remembered  suddenly  that  he  and 
Lois  had  been  boy  and  girl  sweethearts  and  that  she  had 
once  been  engaged  to  marry  him.  It  was  explained  that  his 
temperament  and  hers  were  harmonious,  and  that  Kirk- 
wood, for  all  his  fine  abilities,  was  a  sober-minded  fellow, 
without  Holton's  zest  for  the  world's  gayety.  Any  further 
details  —  the  countless  trifles  with  which  for  half  a  dozen 
years  the  gossips  of  Montgomery  regaled  themselves  —  are 
not  for  this  writing. 

Many  years  had  passed  —  or,  to  be  explicit,  exactly  six- 
teen. One  of  the  first  results  of  the  incident  had  been  the 
immediate  elimination  of  the  Holton  half  of  the  firm  name 
by  which  the  bank  had  long  been  known.  Jack's  brother 
William  organized  the  First  National  Bank,  toward  which 
Mr.  Amzi  Montgomery's  spectacles  pointed  several  times 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY   19 

daily,  as  already  noted.  Samuel,  the  oldest  son  of  the  first 
Holton,  tried  a  variety  of  occupations  before  he  was  elected 
Secretary  of  State.  He  never  fully  severed  his  ties  with 
Montgomery,  retaining  a  house  in  town  and  the  farm  on 
Sugar  Creek.  After  retiring  from  office,  he  became  a  ven- 
turesome speculator,  capitalizing  his  wide  political  acquaint- 
ance in  the  sale  of  shares  in  all  manner  of  mining  and  plan- 
tation companies,  and  dying  suddenly,  had  left  his  estate  in 
a  sad  clutter. 

In  due  course  of  time  it  became  known  that  Lois  Kirk- 
wood  had  divorced  her  husband  at  long  range,  from  a 
Western  state  where  such  matters  were  at  the  time  trans- 
acted expeditiously,  and  a  formal  announcement  of  her 
marriage  to  Holton  subsequently  appeared  in  the  Mont- 
gomery "Evening  Star." 

The  day  after  his  wife's  departure  Kirkwood  left  his  home 
and  did  not  enter  it  again.  It  was  said  by  romanticists 
among  the  local  gossips  that  he  had  touched  nothing,  leav- 
ing it  exactly  as  it  had  been,  and  that  he  always  carried  the 
key  in  his  pocket  as  a  reminder  of  his  sorrow.  Phil  was  passed 
back  and  forth  among  her  aunts,  seriatim,  until  she  went  to 
live  with  her  father,  in  a  rented  house  far  from  the  original 
roof -tree. 

Even  in  practicing  the  most  rigid  economy  of  space  some 
reference  must  be  made  to  the  attitude  of  Lois  Kirkwood 's 
sisters  toward  her  as  a  sinning  woman.  Their  amazement 
had  yielded  at  once  to  righteous  indignation.  It  was  enough 
that  she  had  sinned  against  Heaven;  but  that  she  should 
have  brought  shame  upon  them  all  and  placed  half  the  con- 
tinent between  herself  and  the  scene  and  consequences  of  her 
iniquity,  leaving  her  family  to  shoulder  all  its  responsibilities, 
was  too  monstrous  for  expression.  They  were  Montgomerys 
of  Montgomery;  it  seemed  incredible  that  the  town  itself 
could  ever  recover  from  the  shock  of  her  egregious  transgres- 
sion. They  vied  with  each  other  in  manifestations  of  sym- 
pathy for  Kirkwood,  whose  nobility  under  suffering  was  so 
admirable;  and  they  lavished  upon  Phil  (it  had  been  like 


20  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Lois,  they  discovered,  to  label  her  with  the  preposterous 
name  of  Phyllis !)  an  affection  which  became  in  time  a  trial 
to  the  child's  soul. 

Their  fury  gained  ardor  from  the  fact  that  their  brother 
Amzi  had  never,  after  he  had  blinked  at  them  all  when  they 
visited  him  in  his  private  room  at  the  bank  the  morning  after 
the  elopement,  mentioned  to  any  living  soul  the  passing  of 
this  youngest  sister.  It  had  been  an  occasion  to  rouse  an 
older  brother  and  the  head  of  his  house  to  some  dramatic 
pronouncement.  He  should  have  taken  a  stand,  they  said, 
though  just  what  stand  one  should  take,  when  one's  sister 
has  run  off  with  another  man  and  left  a  wholly  admirable 
husband  and  a  winsome  baby  daughter  behind,  may  not, 
perhaps,  have  been  wholly  clear  to  the  minds  of  the  remain- 
ing impeccable  sisters.  They  demanded  he  should  confiscate 
her  share  of  their  father's  estate  as  punishment ;  this  should 
now  be  Phil's;  they  wanted  this  understood  and  they  took 
care  that  their  friends  should  know  that  they  had  made  this 
demand  of  Amzi.  But  a  gentleman  of  philosophic  habit  and 
temper,  who  serenely  views  the  world  from  his  bank's  door- 
step, need  hardly  be  expected  to  break  his  natural  reticence 
to  thunder  at  an  erring  sister,  or  even  to  gladden  the  gallery 
(imaginably  the  whole  town  that  bears  his  name)  by  trans- 
fers of  property,  of  which  he  was  the  lawful  trustee,  to  that 
lady's  abandoned  heir. 

Lois  had  caused  all  eyes  to  focus  upon  the  Montgomerys 
with  a  new  intentness.  Before  her  escapade  they  had  been 
accepted  as  a  matter  of  course;  now  that  she  had  demon- 
strated that  the  Montgomerys  were  subject  to  the  tempta- 
tions that  beset  all  mankind,  every  one  became  curious  as  to 
the  further  definition  of  the  family  weaknesses.  The  com- 
munity may  be  said  to  have  awaited  the  marriages  of  the 
three  remaining  Montgomery  girls  in  much  the  same  spirit 
that  a  family  physician  awaits  the  appearance  of  measles  in 
a  child  that  has  been  exposed  to  that  malady.  And  Mont- 
gomery was  not  wholly  disappointed. 

Kate,  who  like  Lois,  was  a  trifle  temperamental,  had  fallen 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY  21 

before  the  charms  of  one  Lawrence  Hastings.  The  manner  of 
Hastings's  advent  in  Montgomery  is  perhaps  worthy  of  a 
few  words,  inasmuch  as  he  came  to  stay.  Hastings  was  an 
actor,  who  visited  Montgomery  one  winter  as  a  member  of  a 
company  that  had  trustfully  ventured  into  the  provinces 
with  a  Shakespearean  repertoire.  Montgomery  was  favored 
in  the  hope  that,  being  a  college  town,  it  would  rally  to  the 
call  of  the  serious  drama.  Unfortunately  the  college  was 
otherwise  engaged  at  the  moment  with  a  drama  of  more 
contemporaneous  interest  and  authorship.  An  unusually 
severe  January  added  to  the  eager  and  nipping  air  upon 
which  the  curtain  rises  in  "Hamlet,"  and  proved  too  much 
for  the  well-meaning  players.  Hastings  (so  ran  tradition) 
had  gallantly  bestowed  such  money  as  he  had  upon  the  ladies 
of  the  company  to  facilitate  their  flight  to  New  York.  His 
father,  a  successful  manufacturer  of  codfish  packing-boxes 
at  Newburyport,  telegraphed  money  for  the  prodigal's  re- 
turn with  the  stipulation  that  he  should  forswear  the  inky 
cloak  and  abase  himself  in  the  box  factory. 

At  this  point  Kate  Montgomery,  in  charge  of  an  enter- 
tainment for  the  benefit  of  Center  Church,  invited  Hastings 
(thus  providentially  flung  upon  the  Hoosier  coasts)  to  give  a 
reading  in  the  church  parlors.  Almost  coincidently  the  opera 
house  at  Montgomery  needed  a  manager,  and  Hastings 
accepted  the  position.  The  Avon  Dramatic  Club  rose  and 
flourished  that  winter  under  Hastings's  magic  wand.  It  is 
not  every  town  of  fifteen  thousand  that  suddenly  enrolls  a 
Hamlet  among  her  citizens,  and  as  the  creator  and  chief 
spirit  of  the  dramatic  club,  Hastings's  social  acceptance  was 
immediate  and  complete.  In  other  times  the  town  would 
have  been  wary  of  an  actor ;  but  had  not  Hastings  given  his 
services  free  of  charge  for  the  benefit  of  Center  Church,  and 
was  he  not  a  gentleman,  the  son  of  a  wealthy  manufacturer, 
and  had  he  not  declined  money  offered  by  telegraph  that  he 
might  cling  stubbornly  to  his  art?  Kate  Montgomery  talked 
a  good  deal  about  his  art,  which  he  would  not  relinquish  for 
the  boxing  of  codfish.  After  Hastings  had  given  a  lecture  on 


22  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Macbeth"  (with  readings  from  the  play)  in  the  chapel  of 
Madison  College,  his  respectability  was  established.  There 
was  no  reason  whatever  why  Kate  Montgomery  should  not 
marry  him;  and  she  did,  at  the  end  of  his  first  year  in  town. 
He  thereupon  assumed  the  theater  lease  and  what  had  been 
the  old  "Grand  Opera  House"  became  under  his  ownership 
"Hastings's  Theater,"  or  "The  Hastings." 

Fanny  Montgomery  had  contented  herself  with  the  hand 
of  a  young  man  named  Fosdick  who  had  been  summoned  to 
town  to  organize  a  commercial  club.  In  two  years  he  added 
several  industries  to  Montgomery's  scant  list,  and  wheedled 
a  new  passenger  station  out  of  one  of  the  lordly  railroads 
that  had  long  held  the  town  in  scorn.  Two  of  the  industries 
failed,  the  new  station  was  cited  as  an  awful  example  by  the 
Professor  of  Fine  Arts  at  the  college,  and  yet  Paul  Fosdick 
made  himself  essential  to  Montgomery.  The  commercial 
club's  bimonthly  dinners  gave  the  solid  citizens  an  excuse 
for  leaving  home  six  nights  a  year,  and  in  a  community  where 
meetings  of  whist  clubs  and  church  boards  constituted  the 
only  justification  for  carrying  a  latch-key  this  new  freedom  es- 
tablished him  at  once  as  a  friend  of  mankind.  Fosdick  was 
wholly  presentable,  and  while  his  contributions  to  the  indus- 
trial glory  of  Montgomery  lacked  elements  of  permanence, 
he  had,  so  the  "Evening  Star"  solemnly  averred,  "done 
much  to  rouse  our  citizens  from  their  lethargy  and  blaze  the 
starward  trail."  After  he  married  Fanny,  Fosdick  opened 
an  office  adjoining  the  Commercial  Club  rooms  and  his 
stationery  bore  the  legend  "  Investment  Securities."  Judge 
Walters,  in  appointing  a  receiver  for  a  corporation  which 
Fosdick  had  organized  for  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  pav- 
ing-brick, inadvertently  spoke  of  the  promoter's  occupation 
as  that  of  a  "dealer  in  insecurities";  but  this  playfulness  on 
the  court's  part  did  not  shake  confidence  in  Fosdick.  He 
was  a  popular  fellow,  and  the  success  of  those  Commercial 
Club  dinners  was  not  to  be  discounted  by  the  cynical  flings 
of  a  judge  who  was  rich  enough  to  be  comfortably  indiffer- 
ent to  criticism. 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY    23 

Amzi  Montgomery  being,  as  hinted,  a  person  of  philo- 
sophic temperament,  had  interposed  no  manner  of  objection 
to  the  several  marriages  of  his  sisters  until  Josephine,  the 
oldest,  and  the  last  to  marry,  tendered  him  a  brother-in-law 
in  the  person  of  Alexander  Waterman.  Josephine  was  the 
least  attractive  of  the  sisters,  and  also,  it  was  said,  the  meek- 
est, the  kindest,  and  the  most  amiable.  An  early  unhappy 
affair  with  a  young  minister  was  a  part  of  the  local  tradition, 
and  she  had  been  cited  as  a  broken-hearted  woman  until  she 
married  Waterman.  Waterman  was  a  lawyer  who  had  been 
seized  early  in  life  with  a  mania  for  running  for  Congress. 
The  district  had  long  been  Republican,  but  with  singular 
obstinacy  Waterman  insisted  on  being  a  Democrat.  His 
party  being  hopelessly  in  the  minority  he  was  graciously 
permitted  to  have  such  nominations  as  he  liked,  with  the 
result  that  he  had  been  defeated  for  nearly  every  office  within 
the  gift  of  a  proud  people.  He  was  a  fair  jury  lawyer,  and  an 
orator  of  considerable  repute  among  those  susceptible  to  the 
blandishments  of  the  florid  school. 

Amzi's  resentment  of  Josephine's  choice  was  said  to  be  due 
to  a  grilling  the  banker  had  received  at  Waterman's  hands 
on  the  witness  stand.  Once  while  standing  on  the  steps  of 
his  bank  for  a  survey  of  the  visible  universe,  Amzi  was  re- 
warded with  an  excellent  view  of  the  liveliest  runaway  that 
had  thrilled  Main  Street  in  years.  Several  persons  were  hurt, 
and  one  of  the  victims  had  sued  the  grocer  whose  wagon  had 
done  the  mischief. 

Waterman  was  the  plaintiff's  attorney,  and  Amzi  Mont- 
gomery was,  of  course,  an  important  though  reluctant  wit- 
ness. The  banker  loathed  litigation  in  all  its  forms  and  in  his 
own  affairs  studiously  avoided  it.  It  enraged  him  to  find  one 
of  his  idiosyncrasies  advertised  by  the  fact  that  he  had  ob- 
served the  violent  collision  of  a  grocer's  wagon  with  a  fellow- 
citizen.  His  anger  was  augmented  by  the  patronizing  man- 
ner in  which  Waterman  compelled  him  to  contribute  to  the 
record  of  the  case  admissions  touching  his  habits  of  life, 
which,  though  perfectly  lawful  and  decorous,  became  ridicu- 


24  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

lous  when  uttered  on  oath  in  a  law  court.  Every  one  knew 
that  Mr.  Montgomery  stood  on  the  bank  steps  at  intervals 
to  take  the  air,  but  no  one  had  ever  dreamed  that  he  would 
be  obliged  to  discuss  or  explain  the  habit. 

The  "Evening  Star"  printed  all  of  his  testimony  that  it 
dared;  but  as  the  cross-examination  had  been  conducted 
before  a  crowded  courtroom  the  neat  give  and  take  between 
lawyer  and  witness  had  not  lacked  thorough  reporting.  For 
several  weeks  thereafter  Amzi  did  not  appear  on  the  bank 
steps;  nor  did  he  revert  to  his  old  habit  until  satisfied  that 
groups  of  idlers  were  not  lying  in  wait.  After  Josephine 
introduced  Waterman  to  the  family  circle  Amzi  seemed  gen- 
erously to  overlook  the  offense.  He  was  as  cordial  toward 
him  as  toward  either  of  the  other  brothers-in-law,  with  the 
exception  of  Kirkwood,  though  of  course  Kirkwood,  strictly 
speaking,  no  longer  continued  in  that  relationship. 

These  details  aside,  it  is  possible  to  return  to  the  bank, 
and  await  the  result  of  that  furtive  gesture  with  which  Mr. 
Amzi  Montgomery  responded  to  Phil  Kirkwood 's  signal  from 
the  window  of  the  photograph  gallery.  By  half-past  four  the 
clerks  had  concluded  their  day's  work;  the  routine  letters  to 
Chicago,  Cincinnati,  and  Indianapolis  correspondents  had 
been  sealed  and  dispatched,  and  the  vault  locked  by  Mr. 
Montgomery's  own  hand.  Thereupon  he  retired  to  the  back 
room,  unlocked  the  Franklin  Street  door  and  beguiled  him- 
self with  the  "  Evening  Star."  Shortly  before  five  o'clock  he 
heard  light  steps  outside  followed  by  a  tap  and  Phil  opened 
and  closed  the  door. 

'"Lo,Amy!" 

She  pronounced  the  a  long,  after  a  fashion  she  had  adopted 
in  childhood  and  refused  to  relinquish.  Amzi  was  "A-mee" 
to  Phil.  She  glanced  into  the  bank  room,  seized  his  news- 
paper, crunched  it  into  a  football,  and  kicked  it  over  the 
tellers'  cages  into  the  front  window.  Then  she  pressed  her 
uncle  down  into  his  chair,  grasped  his  face  in  her  hands,  and 
held  him  while  she  kissed  him  on  the  nose,  the  left  eye,  and 
the  right  cheek,  choosing  the  spot  in  every  instance  with 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY  25 

provoking  deliberation  as  she  held  his  wriggling  head.  He 
lost  his  cigar  and  his  spectacles  were  knocked  awry,  but 
he  did  not  appear  to  be  distressed.  Phil  set  his  spectacles 
straight,  struck  a  match  for  a  fresh  cigar,  and  seated  her- 
self on  the  table. 

"I'm  back,  Amy.  How  did  you  know  we'd  be  home  to- 
day?" 

"Dreamed  it,"  said  Amzi,  apparently  relieved  that  her 
assaults  upon  his  peace  and  dignity  were  ended. 

"  I  'd  been  watching  for  you  half  an  hour  before  you  came 
out  on  the  steps.  I  'd  about  given  you  up." 

"So?  You  were  pretty  late  getting  home  last  night.  Your 
father  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself." 

Amzi  glared  at  Phil.  His  curiously  large  blue  eyes  could, 
at  will,  express  ferocity,  and  the  red  and  purple  in  his  face 
deepened  as  he  shut  his  jaws  tight.  She  was  not,  however, 
in  the  least  disturbed,  not  even  when  he  pushed  back  his 
chair  to  escape  her  swinging  legs,  and  pointed  his  finger  at 
her  threateningly. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,"  he  gasped. 

"So  I  inferred,"  Phil  remarked,  bending  forward  and  com- 
pressing her  lips  as  though  making  a  careful  calculation, 
then  touching  the  point  of  his  nose. 

Amzi  rubbed  the  outraged  nose  with  the  back  of  his  hand, 
wheezed  hoarsely  (the  effect  of  the  rain  upon  his  asthma), 
and  cleared  his  throat. 

"You'll  come  down  from  your  high  horse  in  a  minute. 
I've  got  something  to  tell  you  that  will  sober  you  up  a 
bit." 

Phil  raised  her  hands  and  with  brown  nimble  fingers  found 
and  readjusted  the  pin  that  affixed  a  shabby  felt  hat  to  her 
hair.  Then  she  folded  her  arms  and  looked  at  the  tips  of  her 
shoes. 

"The  suspense  is  killing  me.  I  who  am  about  to  die  salute 
you!" 

Amzi  frowned  at  her  levity.  His  frown  caused  a  disturb- 
ance throughout  his  vast  tracts  of  baldness. 


26  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"You'll  change  your  tune  in  a  minute,  my  young  com- 
modore. Have  you  seen  your  aunts?" 

"  No ;  but  it 's  not  their  fault !  Aunt  Josie  called ;  the  others 
telephoned  for  dates.  I  saw  Aunt  Josie  first,  which  explains 
why  we  did  n't  meet.  I  knew  something  was  up." 

"Something  is  up.  They  got  me  over  to  Josie's  last  night 
to  ask  me  to  help.  It's  a  big  programme.  And  I  wanted  to 
warn  you  in  advance.  You  Ve  got  to  stop  all  your  capers ; 
no  more  camps  on  Sugar  Creek,  no  more  tomboy  foolish- 
ness ;  no  more  general  nonsense.  You  've  got  to  be  a  civilized 
woman,  and  conduct  yourself  according  to  the  rules  in  such 
cases  made  and  provided." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?  And  they  got  you  to  tell  me,  did  they? 
How  sweet  of  them ! "  observed  Phil.  "  I  might  have  guessed  it 
from  the  look  of  Aunt  Josie's  back  as  she  went  out  the  gate." 

"Her  back?  Thunder!  How  did  you  see  her  back?" 

"  From  the  roof,  Amy,  if  you  must  know.  If  you  had  three 
aunts  who  had  turned  up  every  few  minutes  all  your  natural 
life  to  tell  you  what  not  to  do,  you  'd  run  for  the  roof,  too, 
every  time  you  heard  the  gate  click.  And  that  last  cook  they 
put  in  the  house  was  just  a  spy  for  them.  But  she  did  n't  spy 
long !  I  Ve  bounced  her ! " 

Amzi  blinked  and  coughed,  and  feigned  even  greater 
ferocity. 

"That's  it!  That's  the  kind  of  thing  you've  got  to  stop 
doing!  You're  always  bouncing  the  hired  girls  your  aunts 
put  in  the  house  to  take  care  of  you  and  you  've  got  to  quit ; 
you  Ve  got  to  learn  how  to  manage  a  servant ;  you  Ve  got "  — 
and  he  drew  himself  up  to  charge  his  words  with  all  possible 
dignity  —  "you've  got  to  be  a  lady." 

"You  insinuate,  Amy,  that  I'm  not  one,  just  natural 
born?" 

"  I  don't  mean  any  such  thing,"  he  blurted.  "You  know 
mighty  well  what  I  mean  —  this  skylarking,  this  galloping 
around  town  on  your  pony.  You  Ve  got  to  behave  yourself ; 
you've  got  to  pay  attention  to  what  your  aunts  tell  you. 
You've  got  to  listen  to, me!" 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY  27 

"  Look  me  in  the  eye,  you  old  fraud !  I  '11  bet  every  one  of 
'em  has  called  you  up  to  tell  you  to  see  me  and  give  me  a 
lecturing.  They  're  a  jolly  lot  of  cowards,  that 's  all.  And  I 
came  over  here  thinking  you  wanted  to  be  nice  and  cheerful 
like  you  always  used  to  be.  All  by  your  dear  old  lonesome 
you  'd  never  think  of  talking  to  me  like  this ;  I  Ve  a  good 
notion  to  muss  you  up!" 

The  thought  of  being  mussed  was  clearly  disturbing.  He 
rose  hastily  and  retreated  to  the  barred  window,  with  the 
table  between  them. 

"Oh,  you're  guilty!  I  always  know  when  they've  been 
putting  you  up  to  something.  Come  along  now  and  sit  down 
like  a  good  old  uncle  and  tell  me  what  new  idea  has  struck 
those  foolish  females.  Sit  down  right  there  in  your  little 
chair,  Amy;  I  '11  let  you  off  from  that  mussing  if  you  tell  the 
truth." 

"You  see,  Phil,"  he  began  earnestly,  "you've  grown  up. 
You  're  not  a  kid  any  more  to  chase  cats  and  dogs  through 
the  court-house  square,  and  flip  on  the  interurbans,  but  a 
grown  woman,  and  you  've  got  to  begin  acting  like  one.  And 
you  've  got  to  begin  right  now.  Just  look  at  your  shoes ;  look 
at  that  hat!  What  kind  of  clothes  is  that  sailor  boy's  suit 
you  're  wearing?  You  've  got  to  dress  like  a  decent  white  girl 
that's  had  some  bringing-up,  and  you've  got  to  —  you've 
got — "  Amzi  coughed  as  though  afraid  of  the  intended 
conclusion  of  his  sentence.  Phil's  eyes  were  bent  upon  him 
with  disconcerting  gravity.  He  hoped  that  Phil  would  inter- 
rupt with  one  of  her  usual  impertinences ;  but  with  the  suspi- 
cion of  laughter  in  her  eyes  she  waited,  so  that  he  perforce 
blurted  it  out.  "  You  Ve  got  to  go  into  society ;  that 's  what 's 
the  matter!" 

Phil  moved  her  head  slightly  to  one  side,  and  her  lips 
parted.  A  faraway  look  came  into  her  eyes  for  an  instant 
only.  Amzi  was  watching  her  keenly.  He  was  taken  aback 
by  her  abrupt  change  of  manner;  her  sudden  sobriety  baffled 
him.  Something  very  sweet  and  wistful  came  into  her  face; 
something  that  he  had  not  seen  there  before,  and  he  was 
touched  by  it. 


28  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"  I  suppose  I  must  change  my  ways,  Uncle  Amy.  I  do  act 
like  a  wild  zebra,  —  I  know  that.  But  I  'm  sorry.  Of  course 
it 's  silly  for  a  girl  who 's  nearly  nineteen  to  be  as  skittish  as  I 
am.  And  they  tell  me  I  'm  a  bad  example  to  my  cousins  and 
the  whole  town.  It's  tough  to  be  a  bad  example.  What's 
this  they're  going  to  do  to  me?" 

"Oh,  you've  got  to  be  brought  out;  you've  got  to  have  a 
party;  they  want  me  to  have  it  in  my  house." 

"All  right,"  said  Phil  tamely.  She  seemed,  indeed,  to  be 
thinking  of  something  else.  Her  manner  continued  to  puzzle 
him;  he  was  even  troubled  by  it.  He  relighted  his  cigar 
and  watched  the  smoke  of  the  extinguished  match  after 
he  had  tossed  it  into  the  little  grate. 

"  Uncle  Amy,"  said  Phil,  quite  soberly,  "  I  'm  really  serious 
now.  I  've  been  wondering  a  good  deal  about  what 's  going  to 
become  of  me." 

"How's  that,  Phil?" 

"Well,  I  'm  not  as  silly  as  I  act;  and  I  've  been  wondering 
whether  I  ought  n't  to  try  to  do  something?" 

"What  kind  of  something?  Housekeeping  —  that  sort  of 
thing?" 

"Yes;  but  more  than  that.  I  ought  to  go  to  work  to  earn 
money.',' 

Amzi  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Thunder!  you  can't  do  that,"  he  said  with  decision.  "  It 
would  n't  be  proper  for  you  to  do  that." 

"I  don't  see  why  not.   Other  girls  do." 

"Girls  do  when  they  have  to.   You  don't  have  to." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  We  might  as  well  be  sensible 
if  we're  going  to  talk  about  it." 

Amzi  agreed  to  this  with  a  nod  and  resettled  himself  in  his 
chair. 

"  Daddy  is  n't  making  enough  to  take  care  of  us,  that 's  all. 
This  afternoon  I  was  over  in  his  office  cleaning  up  his  desk, 
—  you  know  he  never  does  it  himself,  and  even  a  harum- 
scarum  like  me  can  help  it  some,  —  and  I  saw  a  lot  of  things 
that  scared  me.  Bills  and  things  like  that.  And  it  would  be 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY   29 

hard  to  talk  to  daddy  about  it;  I  don't  think  I  ever  could. 
And  you  know  he  really  could  make  a  lot  of  money  if  he 
wanted  to;  I  can  tell  that  from  the  letters  he  gets.  He 
does  n't  answer  his  letters.  Every  month  last  year  I  used 
to  straighten  his  desk,  and  some  of  last  spring's  bills  are 
still  there,  and  they  have  n't  been  paid.  I  know,  of  course, 
that  that  can't  go  on  forever." 

"You  ought  n't  to  have  to  bother  about  that,  Phil.  It's 
none  of  your  business." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  earnestly,  "it  is  my  business.  And 
it's  been  troubling  me  for  a  long  time.  I  can't  talk  to  father 
about  it;  you  can  see  how  that  would  be;  and  he's  such  a 
dear  —  so  fine  and  kind.  I  suppose  there  is  n't  anybody  on 
earth  as  fine  as  daddy.  And  he  breaks  my  heart,  sometimes; 
goes  about  so  quiet,  as  though  he  had  gone  into  himself  and 
shut  the  blinds,  as  they  do  in  a  house  where  somebody's 
dead.  It  seems  just  like  that,  Uncle  Amy." 

Amzi  was  uncomfortable.  It  was  not  to  hear  her  speak  of 
drawn  blinds  in  houses  of  the  dead  that  he  had  summoned 
Phil  for  this  interview.  His  sisters  had  asked  him  to  reason 
with  her,  as  they  had  often  appealed  to  him  before  in  their 
well-meant  but  tactless  efforts  to  correct  her  faults,  but 
she  had  evinced  an  accession  of  reasonableness  that  made 
him  uneasy.  She  had  changed  from  the  impulsive,  exasper- 
ating young  creature  he  knew  into  an  anxious,  depressed 
woman  in  a  mackintosh,  whom  he  did  not  know  at  all!  He 
breathed  hard  for  a  few  minutes,  angry  at  his  sisters  for 
bringing  this  situation  to  pass.  It  was  absurd  to  tame  a  girl 
of  Phil's  spirit.  He  had  enjoyed,  more  than  anything  in 
his  life,  his  confidential  relations  with  Phil.  It  was  more  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing  than  because  there  was  any  cause  for  it 
that  a  certain  amount  of  mystery  was  thrown  about  such 
interviews  as  this.  There  was  no  reason  on  earth  why  Phil 
should  n't  have  entered  by  the  front  door  in  banking-hours, 
or  visited  him  in  her  grandfather's  house  where  he  lived.  But 
he  liked  the  joke  of  it.  He  liked  all  their  jokes,  and  entered 
zestfully  into  all  manner  of  conspiracies  with  her,  to  the  dis- 


30  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

cornfiture  of  the  aunts,  to  thwart  their  curbing  of  her  liber- 
ties. He  prided  himself  upon  his  complete  self-control,  and 
it  was  distinctly  annoying  to  find  that  Phil's  future,  seen 
against  a  background  plastered  with  her  father's  unpaid 
bills,  caused  a  sudden  hot  anger  to  surge  in  his  heart.  Within 
the  range  of  his  ambitions  and  desires  he  did  as  he  liked ;  and 
he  had  a  hardened  bachelor's  fondness  for  having  his  way. 
He  walked  to  the  window  and  stared  out  at  the  street.  It 
grew  late  and  the  rain  was  gathering  volume  as  though  pre- 
paring for  a  night  of  it. 

A  truck  heavily  loaded  with  boxes  and  crates  of  furniture 
moved  slowly  through  Franklin  Street  toward  the  railway. 
Amzi  was  at  once  alert.  He  read  much  current  history  in  the 
labels  on  passing  freight,  and  often  formed  the  basis  for 
credits  therefrom.  Was  it  possible  that  one  of  the  bank's 
customers  was  feloniously  smuggling  merchandise  out  of 
town  to  avoid  writs  of  attachment?  Such  evils  had  been 
known.  Phil  jumped  from  the  table  and  joined  him  at  the 
window.  She  knew  her  Uncle  Amzi's  mental  processes  much 
better  than  he  imagined;  suspicion  was  writ  large  on  his 
countenance. 

"Humph!"  she  said.  "That's  only  the  stuff  from  the 
Samuel  Holton  house.  Charlie  and  Ethel  are  moving  to 
Indianapolis.  That 's  some  of  the  furniture  they  had  in  their 
town  house  here.  I  saw  the  crates  in  the  yard  this  morning." 

"I  believe  you're  right,  Phil;  I  believe  you're  right." 

His  eyes  opened  and  shut  several  times  quickly,  as  he 
assimilated  this  information.  Then  he  recurred  to  Phil's 
affairs. 

"Speaking  of  money,  Phil,  we'll  have  to  do  something 
about  those  unpaid  bills.  In  a  town  like  this  everybody 
knows  everybody's  business  —  except  yours  and  mine.  We 
can't  have  your  father's  bills  piling  up;  they 've  got  to  be  paid. 
And  this  brings  me  to  something  I  've  meant  to  speak  to  you 
about  for  some  time.  In  fact,  I  've  just  been  waiting  for  a 
chance,  but  you're  so  confoundedly  hard  to  catch.  There's 
—  a  —  some  money  —  er  —  that  is  to  say,  Phil,  as  executor 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY  31 

of  your  grandfather's  estate,  I  hold  some  money,  that  — 
er—  " 

He  coughed  furiously,  blew  his  nose,  and  made  a  fresh 
start. 

"I'm  going  to  open  an  account  for  you  —  your  own 
money,  understand! — and  you  can  pay  those  bills  yourself. 
We'll  start  with,  say,  five  hundred  dollars  and  you  can 
depend  on  a  hundred  a  month.  It  will  be  strictly  —  er 
—  your  money.  Understand  ?  You  need  n't  say  anything 
to  your  father  about  it.  That's  all  of  that." 

He  feigned  sudden  interest  in  the  wet  street,  but  Phil, 
whose  eyes  had  not  left  him,  tapped  him  lightly  on  the 
shoulder. 

"Oh,  no,  you  don't!  You  have  n't  a  cent  that  belongs  to 
me,  and  you  know  it,  you  splendid  old  fraud.  And  don't 
you  try  that  game  on  me  again  or  I'll  stop  speaking  to 
you." 

"  Do  you  mean  — "he  began  to  bluster;  "do  you  mean  to 
say  that  I  don't  know  my  own  business?  Do  you  think  I  'm 
going  to  steal  money  from  your  grandfather's  estate  to  give 
you?  Why—" 

"You  were  n't  born  to  adorn  the  front  row  of  successful 
liars,  Amy.  And  even  if  you  had  a  million  or  two  lying  round 
loose,  you  could  n't  give  me  a  cent  of  it ;  I  would  n't  take  it. 
It  would  n't  be  square  to  daddy;  daddy's  a  gentleman,  you 
know,  and  I  could  n't  do  anything  meaner  than  to  take  your 
money  to  pay  his  debts  with.  So  there,  you  old  dear,  I  Ve  a 
good  notion  to  muss  you  up,  after  all." 

He  again  put  the  table  between  them,  and  stood  puffing 
from  the  unwonted  haste  with  which  he  had  eluded  her 
grasp.  He  had  managed  the  matter  badly,  and  as  his  hand, 
thrust  into  his  coat  pocket,  touched  a  check  he  had  written 
and  placed  there  as  a  preliminary  to  this  interview,  a  sheep- 
ish expression  crossed  his  face. 

"Well,"  he  blurted,  "I'd  like  to  know  what  in  thunder 
you  're  going  to  do !  I  tell  you  it 's  yours  by  right.  I  ought  to 
have  given  it  to  you  long  ago." 


32  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"I'm  skipping,"  said  Phil,  reaching  down  to  button  her 
raincoat.  "We're  going  to  Rose's  for  tea." 

"Tea?" 

Amzi's  emphasis  implied  that  in  tea  lay  the  sole  impor- 
tance of  Phil's  announcement;  and  yet,  subjected  to  even  the 
most  superficial  analysis,  Mr.  Montgomery's  sensations  were 
not  in  the  least  attributable  to  the  thought  of  tea.  Tea  in  the 
sense  intended  by  Phil  was  wholly  commonplace,  —  a  com- 
bination of  cold  meat,  or  perhaps  of  broiled  chicken,  with  hot 
biscuits,  and  honey  or  jam,  or  maybe  canned  peaches  with 
cream.  Considered  either  as  a  beverage  or  as  a  meal,  tea 
contained  no  thrill ;  and  yet  perhaps  the  thought  of  tea  at 
Miss  Rose  Bartlett's  aroused  in  Amzi  Montgomery's  breast 
certain  emotions  which  were  concealed  by  his  explosive 
emphasis.  Phil,  turning  up  the  collar  of  her  mackintosh, 
reaffirmed  the  fact  of  tea. 

"You  never  come  to  my  house  for  just  tea,  but  you  go  to 
Rose's.  You're  always  going  to  Rose's  for  tea,"  boomed 
Amzi. 

"Daddy  likes  to  go,"  added  Phil,  moving  toward  the 
door. 

"  I  suppose  he  does,"  remarked  Amzi,  a  little  absently. 

"By-by,  Amy.  Thanks,  just  the  same,  anyhow." 

"Good-night,  Phil!" 

Phil  lingered,  her  hand  on  the  knob. 

"Come  over  yourself,  after  tea.  There  may  be  music. 
Daddy  keeps  his  'cello  over  there,  you  know." 

"His 'cello?" 

It  seemed  that /cello,  like  tea,  was  a  word  of  deep  signi- 
ficance. Amzi  glared  at  Phil,  who  raised  her  head  and 
laughed. 

"Nonsense!"  he  ejaculated,  though  it  was  not  clear  just 
wherein  the  nonsense  lay. 

"  Oh,  your  old  flute  is  over  there,  too,"  said  Phil,  not  with- 
out scorn. 

Having  launched  this  she  laughed  again  and  the  door 
closed  upon  her  with  a  bang.  She  hammered  the  glass  with 


THE  MONTGOMERYS  OF  MONTGOMERY   33 

her  knuckles  to  attract  his  attention,  flung  back  her  head  as 
she  laughed  again,  and  vanished. 

Amzi  stared  at  the  door's  rain-splashed  pane.  The  world 
was  empty  now  that  Phil  had  gone.  He  drew  down  the 
shabby  green  blind  with  a  jerk  and  prepared  to  go  home. 


CHAPTER  III 

98    BUCKEYE  LANE 

THE  Bartlett  sisters  lived  in  Buckeye  Lane,  a  thorough- 
fare that  ran  along  the  college  campus.  Most  of  the  faculty 
dwelt  there,  and  the  Bartlett  girls  (every  one  said  "the  Bart- 
lett girls"  just  as  every  one  said  "the  Montgomery  girls": 
it  was  established  local  usage)  were  daughters  of  a  professor 
who  had  died  long  ago. 

Rose  was  the  housekeeper,  and  a  very  efficient  one  she 
was,  too.  In  all  business  transactions,  from  the  purchase  of 
vegetables  to  the  collection  of  the  dividends  on  their  small  in- 
heritance, Rose  was  the  negotiator  and  active  agent.  She 
was,  moreover,  an  excellent  cook;  her  reputation  in  this 
department  of  domestic  science  was  the  highest.  And  as 
two  women  can  hardly  be  expected  to  exist  on  something 
like  four  hundred  dollars  a  year  (the  sum  reluctantly  yielded 
by  their  patrimony),  Miss  Rose  commercialized  her  genius 
by  baking  cakes,  cookies,  jumbles,  and  pies,  if  demanded. 
In  Montgomery,  where  only  Mrs.  William  Holton  had  ever 
kept  more  than  one  servant  (though  Fanny  Fosdick  had  at- 
tempted higher  flights),  Miss  Rose  was  an  ever-ready  help  in 
times  of  domestic  adversity  to  distracted  housekeepers  who 
found  the  maintenance  of  even  one  servant  attended  with 
the  gravest  difficulties. 

Miss  Nan  was  an  expert  needlewoman,  and,  like  her  sister, 
augmented  their  income  by  the  labor  of  her  hands.  Her  con- 
tributions to  the  pot  were,  indeed,  much  larger  than  Rose's. 
The  clients  she  served  were  chiefly  women  of  fastidious  taste 
in  these  matters  who  lived  in  surrounding  cities.  Her  exhi- 
bitions of  cross-stitching,  hemstitching,  and  drawn-work 
were  so  admirable  as  to  establish  a  broad  field  for  her  enter- 
prises. Her  designs  were  her  own,  and  she  served  ladies  who 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  35 

liked  novel  and  exclusive  patterns.  These  employments 
had  proved  in  no  wise  detrimental  to  the  social  standing  of 
the  Bartlett  girls.  If  Rose  baked  a  cake  for  a  wedding  sup- 
per, this  did  not  militate  in  the  least  against  her  eligibility 
as  a  guest  of  the  occasion.  And  likewise  Nan  could  unfold  a 
napkin  she  had  herself  hemstitched  for  a  consideration,  with- 
out the  slightest  fear  that  any  one  would  make  invidious 
comments  upon  the  fact. 

In  the  matter  of  the  respective  ages  of  the  sisters  no 
stranger  was  ever  informed  of  the  exact  fact,  although  every 
one  knew.  Judge  Walters  had  established  an  unchange- 
able age  for  both  of  them.  They  were,  the  judge  said,  twenty- 
nine;  though  as  they  were  not  twins,  and  as  he  had  persisted 
in  this  fallacy  for  almost  a  decade,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how 
they  could  both  be  permanently  twenty-nine. 

Not  all  the  time  of  these  ladies  was  spent  in  cooking  and 
needlework.  Miss  Rose  was  a  musician,  who  played  the 
organ  at  Center  Church  and  was  usually  the  sympathetic 
accompanist  at  all  concerts  given  by  local  talent.  And,  as 
though  not  to  be  outdone,  Miss  Nan  quietly  exercised  the 
pen  conjointly  with  the  needle.  Several  editors  in  New  York 
were  quite  familiar  with  the  neat  backhand  of  a  lady  they 
had  never  seen  who  sent  them  from  an  unheard-of  town  in 
Indiana  the  drollest  paragraphs,  the  most  amusing  dialogues, 
and  the  merriest  of  jingles.  Now  and  then  Nancy  Bartlett's 
name  was  affixed  to  an  amusing  skit  in  which  various  Mont- 
gomery people  found  their  foibles  published  to  the  world, 
though  with  a  proper  discretion,  and  so  amiably  that  no  one 
could  take  offense.  With  the  perversity  of  such  communi- 
ties, many  declared  that  Miss  Rose  was  more  talented  than 
Miss  Nan,  and  that  she  could  have  written  much  better 
things  than  her  sister  if  she  had  chosen.  But  what  could 
have  been  more  ridiculous  than  any  attempt  to  arouse  rivalry 
between  sisters  who  dwelt  together  so  contentedly,  and  who 
were  the  busiest  and  happiest  women  in  town! 

The  Bartlett  girls  were  the  best  friends  the  college  boys 
had.  If  one  of  these  ladies  undertook,  in  the  absence  of  a 


36  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

manservant,  to  drive  the  mower  across  their  fifty  feet  of 
lawn,  some  youngster  invariably  appeared  to  relieve  her  of 
this  task.  Or  if  wood  or  coal  were  observed  lying  upon  the 
walk  in  front  of  the  Bartlett  gate,  it  was  always  a  question 
whether  the  Sigma  Chis  or  the  Phi  Gamma  Deltas  would 
see  the  fuel  first  and  hasten  to  conceal  anything  so  mon- 
strous, so  revolting  to  the  soul  of  young  Greeks,  in  the  Bart- 
lett cellar.  Amid  all  their  vocations  and  avocations,  the 
Bartletts  moved  tranquilly  in  an  atmosphere  of  luxurious  lei- 
sure. They  were  never  flustered ;  their  employments  were  a 
kind  of  lark,  it  seemed,  never  to  be  referred  to  except  in  the 
most  jocular  fashion.  When  Rose  had  entrusted  to  the  oven 
a  wedding-cake  or  a  pan  of  jumbles  she  would  repair  to  the 
piano  for  a  ten-minute  indulgence  in  Chopin.  Similarly  in- 
different to  fate,  Nan  at  intervals  in  the  day  drew  a  tablet 
and  fountain-pen  from  her  sewing-table  and  recorded  some 
whimsicality  which  she  had  seemingly  found  embedded  in 
the  mesh  of  a  shopping-bag  she  was  embellishing.  And  when, 
in  due  course,  a  funny-looking,  canary-colored  envelope  car- 
ried this  fragment  to  the  desk  of  some  bored  phlegmatic 
editor,  he  would,  as  like  as  not,  grin  and  scribble  an  order  to 
the  cashier  for  two  dollars  (or  some  such  munificent  sum) 
and  pin  it  to  the  stamped  "  return  "  canary  envelope,  which 
would  presently  reach  Number  98  Buckeye  Lane,  Mont- 
gomery, Indiana. 

Phil  Kirkwood  hardly  remembered  a  time  when  Number 
98  had  not  been  a  safe  port  in  the  multitudinous  squalls  that 
beset  her  youth.  The  Bartletts  were  wholly  human,  as  wit- 
ness their  pantry  and  garret  —  veritable  magazines  of  sur- 
prises! Miss  Rose  was  a  marvel  at  cutting  out  silhouettes; 
Miss  Nan  would,  with  the  slightest  provocation,  play  bear 
or  horse,  crawling  over  the  floor  with  Phil  perched  on  her 
back  blowing  a  horn.  It  was  no  wonder  that  Phil's  vagrant 
steps  turned  instinctively  toward  Number  98.  In  the  begin- 
ning her  father  used  to  seek  her  there;  and  having  by  this 
means  learned  the  way,  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  for  father  and  daughter  to  visit  the  Bartletts  together. 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  37 

A  man  whose  wife  divorces  him  is  entitled  to  some  social 
consolations,  and  if  tea  and  jam  at  the  house  of  two  maiden 
ladies  of  irreproachable  character  satisfies  him,  the  commu- 
nity should  be  satisfied  also.  The  gossips  had  never  been  able 
to  decide  which  of  the  Bartlett  girls  was  likelier  to  assume 
the  role  of  Phil's  stepmother.  There  were  those  who  favored 
Rose.  As  Kirkwood  played  the  'cello,  Rose  to  some  observ- 
ers seemed  more  plausible  by  reason  of  her  musical  talent. 
Others  believed  that  it  would  be  Nan,  as  Nan  was  "  literary" 
and  Kirkwood  was  a  scholar,  suspected  of  "writing,"  though 
just  what  he  wrote  no  one  was  able  to  say.  It  had  been  said 
thousands  of  times  that  Amzi  Montgomery  must  eventually 
marry  one  of  the  Bartletts,  but  here,  too,  opinion  was  divided 
as  to  which  one  would  probably  be  so  favored.  Amzi  had 
fluted  in  the  Schumann  Quartette,  devoted  to  chamber 
music,  but  his  asthma  had  broken  up  the  club,  and  he  now 
rarely  essayed  the  instrument.  Still,  Amzi  loved  his  joke, 
and  Nan  was  a  joker.  So  it  was  clear  that  either  Kirkwood 
or  Montgomery  might  with  propriety  marry  either  Rose  or 
Nan.  Whenever  a  drought  seemed  imminent  in  local  gossip, 
these  oases  bubbled. 

Phil's  aunts  were  not  unaware  of  the  high  favor  in  which 
their  niece  held  the  Bartletts;  nor  had  they  failed  to  specu- 
late upon  the  chances  of  Kirkwood's  remarrying.  They  re- 
sented the  idea,  chiefly  because  such  action  would  cause  a 
revival  of  the  old  scandal  involving  their  sister,  which  they 
were  pardonably  anxious  to  have  forgotten.  Then,  too,  it 
was  their  solemn  duty  to  keep  their  hands  on  Phil,  who 
was  a  Montgomery  and  entitled  to  their  consideration  and 
oversight,  and  if  Kirkwood  should  remarry,  Phil  would  be 
relinquished  to  the  care  of  a  stepmother,  a  grievous  thought 
at  all  times. 

On  this  rainy  October  evening,  tea  was  dispatched  in  the 
gayest  humor  in  the  little  Bartlett  dining-room.  Rose  and 
Phil  disappeared  in  the  kitchen  to  "do"  the  dishes  while 
Nan  and  Kirkwood  communed  in  the  book-lined  living-room. 

"You've  had  a  talking  with  Phil,"  said  Kirkwood. 


38  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Yes;  she  came  in  this  morning,  when  Rose  was  out  and  I 
said  several  things  to  her  that  I  ought  to  have  said  long  ago. 
It  was  n't  easy  to  say  them.  But  it 's  time  for  her  to  sober 
down  a  little,  though  I  wish  in  my  heart  she  could  go  on  for- 
ever just  as  she  is.  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  she's  a 
woman,  with  a  future  to  think  about." 

"Phil's  future — "  murmured  Kirkwood  pensively. 

"Your  future  and  hers  are  bound  up  together;  there's 
no  escaping  that." 

"I'm  afraid  that's  so!  There  are  a  thousand  things  I 
know  should  be  done  for  her,  but  I  don't  grasp  them.  I  seem 
unable  to  get  hold  of  anything  these  days." 

He  looked  at  his  hands,  as  though  wondering  at  their 
impotence.  They  were  bronzed  and  rough  from  the  camp, 
but  his  sensitive  nature  was  expressed  in  them.  The  gray 
showed  in  his  beard  and  hair.  Where  the  short  beard  did  not 
hide  his  cheeks  they  were  tanned.  His  blue  serge  suit  had 
been  freshly  pressed ;  a  polka-dot  scarf  was  neatly  tied  under 
the  points  of  a  white-wing  collar.  He  suggested  an  artist 
who  had  just  returned  from  a  painting  trip  in  the  open  —  a 
town  man  who  was  n't  afraid  of  the  sun.  If  an  artist  one 
might  have  assumed  that  he  was  none  too  prosperous;  his 
white  cuffs  were  perceptibly  frayed.  Nan  Bartlett  scrutinized 
him  closely,  and  there  came  into  her  eyes  the  look  of  one 
about  to  say  something,  long  withheld  and  difficult  to  say. 

She  was  a  small,  fair  woman,  with  a  becoming  roundness 
of  figure.  Her  yellow  hair,  parted  evenly  in  the  middle,  curled 
prettily  on  her  forehead.  A  blue  shirt-waist  with  a  turnover 
collar  and  a  ready-made  skirt  spoke  for  a  severe  taste  in 
dress.  A  gold-wire  bracelet  on  her  left  wrist  and  a  stick- 
pin in  her  four-in-hand  tie  were  her  only  ornaments.  She  had 
a  fashion  of  raising  her  arm  and  shaking  the  bracelet  back 
from  her  hand.  When  she  did  this,  it  was  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  a  slight  turning  of  the  head  to  one  side  and  a  dreamy 
look  came  into  her  large  blue  eyes.  It  was  a  pretty,  graceful 
trick.  She  did  not  hesitate  now  that  her  mind  was  made  up, 
but  spoke  quickly  and  crisply. 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  39 

"You  don't  work  hard  enough;  you  are  not  making  your 
time  count.  It  is  n't  fair  to  Phil;  it  is  n't  fair  to  yourself." 

"That's  true;  I  know  it,"  he  replied,  meeting  her  eyes 
quickly. 

"And  now's  the  time  for  you  to  change;  Phil  needs  you. 
Phil's  going  to  need  a  lot  of  things  —  money,  for  example. 
And  you've  reached  a  time  of  life  when  it's  now  or  never." 

The  bracelet  flashed  back  under  her  cuff.  She  looked 
at  her  wrist  wonderingly  as  if  surprised  that  the  trinket  had 
disappeared;  then  she  glanced  at  Kirkwood,  casually,  as 
though  she  were  in  the  habit  of  saying  such  things  to  him, 
which  was  not,  however,  the  fact. 

He  straightened  himself  and  his  hands  clenched  as  though 
to  do  battle  at  her  behest. 

"Mine's  a  wasted  life;  for  years  everything  has  seemed 
futile.  I  'm  glad  you  spoke  to  me.  I  need  to  be  brought  up 
short." 

Nan  nodded.  This  was  not  a  debatable  question;  unde- 
niably he  did  need  to  be  brought  up  with  a  sharp  turn.  It 
was  in  her  mind  that  perhaps  she  had  said  enough ;  but  she 
wished  to  make  sure  of  it. 

"Nobody  can  touch  you  at  your  best;  it's  your  best  that 
you  've  got  to  put  into  the  struggle.  It  must  n't  be  said  of 
you  that  you  neglect  business,  and  even  refuse  cases;  and 
they  do  say  that  of  you." 

"  I  've  grown  careless  and  indifferent,"  he  confessed ;  "but 
it 's  time  for  me  to  wake  up.  I  can't  see  Phil  heading  for  the 
poorhouse  and  that's  where  we're  going." 

' '  No  doubt  of  it ! "  she  assented .  ' '  Phil's  aunts  complain  of 
you,  and  say  that  if  you  won't  care  for  her  you  ought  to  turn 
her  over  to  them.  That's  funny,  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  it  is  n't.  There 's  a  good  deal  to  support  their  attitude. 
Phil's  needs  are  those  of  a  girl  ready  to  meet  the  world,  and 
she  will  need  money.  And  I  've  noticed  that  money  is  a  shy 
commodity ;  it  does  n't  just  come  rolling  uphill  to  anybody's 
doorstep." 

Kirkwood  knew  perfectly  well  the  elusiveness  of  money ;  it 


40  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

seemed  less  so  now  from  Nan's  way  of  stating  the  fact.  When 
one  needed  a  dollar  one  should  go  and  find  it ;  this  was  clearly 
Miss  Nan's  philosophy,  and  in  her  own  affairs  he  knew  that 
she  had  derrtonstrated  its  efficacy. 

He  lowered  his  voice  as  though  about  to  touch  upon  a 
matter  even  more  confidential  than  any  that  had  engaged 
their  attention.  It  was  evidently  something  wholly  pleasant 
that  he  wished  to  speak  of ;  his  eye  brightened  and  his  face 
flushed  slightly.  The  look  he  bent  upon  her  was  of  unmis- 
takable liking. 

" '  The  Gray  Knight  of  Picardy '  is  booming.  I  saw  a  stack 
of  him  at  Crosby's  to-day:  half  a  dozen  people  have  asked 
me  if  I  read  it.  It  was  put  out  so  late  in  the  spring  that  it's 
astonishing  how  it's  carried  through  the  summer.  Some  of 
the  papers  are  just  reviewing  it  —  and  the  more  deliberate 
journals  are  praising  it.  And  when  we  were  speaking  of 
money  matters  a  bit  ago,  I  clean  forgot  that  I  have  a  check 
from  the  publisher  that  I'm  going  to  hand  you  now." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  draft  which  she  took  eagerly 
and  glanced  at. 

It  was  for  two  thousand  dollars,  payable  to  Nancy  Bart- 
lett.  Nan  slipped  it  quickly  into  the  drawer  of  her  sewing- 
table.  As  she  drew  her  hand  away,  he  caught  and  held  it 
an  instant.  Nan  did  not  look  at  him  as  she  quietly  freed  her- 
self. She  ignored  the  act,  though  her  cheek  flushed  scarlet. 
She  minimized  the  incident  by  shaking  down  her  bracelet. 

"Half  of  that  is  yours,"  she  said.  "I  will  deposit  it  to- 
morrow and  give  you  my  check.  You  ought  to  have  made 
the  contract  in  your  own  name,  but  I  never  thought  they 
would  take  it  —  much  less  that  it  would  sell,  or  I  should 
have  insisted  in  the  beginning." 

"Well,  I  had  faith  in  your  three  quarters  of  the  work; 
mine  is  the  poorest  part  of  it." 

"Your  half  made  it  possible,  —  the  form  and  the  plan- 
ning. I  never  could  have  done  a  long-sustained  thing  like 
that;  I'm  a  paragrapher,  that's  all." 

"You're  a  humorist  of  a  high  order,"  he  said  warmly. 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  4' 

"  It 's  the  huge  joke  of  the  thing  that  is  making  people  like  it. 
Let  me  see,  the  publisher  is  advertising  a  quotation  from 
some  paper  that  has  called  it  the  funniest  book  in  ten 
years." 

"That's  a  stock  phrase  of  the  critics,"  said  Nan;  "they 
merely  change  the  title  of  the  book  from  year  to  year.  But 
it's  been  fun  doing  a  book  that  way  and  putting  it  out 
anonymously.  Judge  Walters  spoke  to  me  of  it  yesterday; 
said  he  had  stayed  up  all  night  to  finish  it." 

" It's  going  to  take  more  ingenuity  than  I  possess  to  hide 
the  authorship;  that's  why  I  want  you  to  carry  the  burden. 
The  publisher  says  the  public  demand  to  know  who  Merlin 
Shepperd  is.  And  three  magazines  want  a  short  story  by  the 
author  of  'The  Gray  Knight  of  Picardy.'  I  '11  send  you  the 
letters.  That  enterprising  Phil  has  an  uncomfortable  habit 
of  running  through  my  desk  and  I  'm  likely  to  forget  to  lock 
up  these  things.  She  thought  I  was  working  on  a  brief  all  last 
winter  when  I  was  doing  my  part  of  the  '  Gray  Knight.'  But 
I  turn  the  partnership  over  to  you  now  —  with  all  the  assets 
and  liabilities  and  the  firm  name  and  style.  You  are  Merlin 
Shepperd  and  I  am  Kirkwood,  attorney  and  counselor  at 
law,  over  Bernstein's.  You  see,"  he  added,  smiling,  "your 
lecture  led  right  up  to  that.  No  more  literary  ventures  for 
me!" 

"Well,  I  'd  forgotten  the  'Gray  Knight'  for  the  moment; 
but  in  spite  of  him  I  believe  you  had  better  stick  to  the 
law." 

"There 's  this,  Nan,"  he  said  earnestly,  looking  at  her  with 
an  intentness  that  caused  her  to  move  uneasily;  "it  would 
seem  quite  natural  for  a  partnership  like  this  to  be  extended 
further.  This  world  would  be  a  pretty  bleak  place  without 
you.  You  know  and  understand  that.  And  there  is  Phil; 
Phil  needs  you  just  as  I  do.  I  mean  to  start  afresh  at  the  law ; 
I  mean  to  make  myself  count.  And  I  need  you." 

He  rose  and  looked  down  at  her.  It  was  as  though  by  this 
act  he  presented  himself  as  a  rehabilitated  Thomas  Kirk- 
wood  ;  a  man  ready  to  grapple  with  the  world  afresh  for  her 


42  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

sake.  He  bent  over  and  touched  lightly  her  hands  clasped 
quietly  upon  her  knee. 

"  Dear  Nan:  I  love  you,  Nan,"  he  said  softly,  and  stepped 
back,  waiting  for  her  to  speak. 

She  raised  her  head  and  their  eyes  met. 

"Tom,"  she  said,  "you  are  the  dearest  of  men;  but  that  is 
not  for  you  and  me.  It  will  never  be  for  you  and  me.  And 
please,  Tom,  because  you  are  the  finest  of  men,  never  speak 
of  this  again.  You  will  promise,  won't  you?" 

"No,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  slowly;  "I  will  not  pro- 
mise. You  have  reasons  and  I  think  I  know  what  they  are.  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  soon,  for  this  has  been  in  my  heart  a 
long  time.  I  meant  to  speak  to  you  last  spring.  But  now  the 
need  is  greater.  I  not  only  need  you,  but  Phil  needs  you." 

She  smiled  at  the  mention  of  Phil. 

"That  'sa  poor  argument.  Phil  really  does  n't  need  any  one 
but  you.  I  should  be  afraid  of  spoiling  dear,  splendid  Phil." 

It  was  upon  this  that  Rose  and  Phil  came  in  from  the 
kitchen.  Rose  was  taller  than  her  sister,  a  slender,  hand- 
some woman,  with  an  air  of  distinction  which  dishwashing 
in  no  wise  abated.  She  was  one  of  those  American  women 
who  wear  an  apron  like  a  vestment  —  who,  the  vestis  domes  - 
tica  flung  aside,  adorn  the  parlor  as  charmingly  as  they  grace 
the  kitchen. 

Phil  began  to  whistle  a  tune,  which  Rose  tried  to  identify 
for  her  by  striking  the  chords. 

"What  are  you  two  talking  about?"  asked  Phil,  turning 
from  the  piano. 

"Discussing  the  origin  of  the  pyramids,"  replied  Nan, 
rising.  "You  and  Rose  must  have  settled  something  in  all 
the  time  you  took  to  the  dishes.  It  was  a  noisy  session,  too. 
You  must  have  been  playing  drop  the  teacup." 

Phil  clasped  her  hands  dramatically,  reciting:  — 

"A  moment  then, 

She  poised  upon  the  dishpan's  utmost  verge 
The  heirloom  teapot  old,  with  flowers  bedight. 
And  with  a  cry  — " 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  43 

She  paused,  feigning  forgetf  ulness.  Her  father  rose  quickly 
and  caught  up  the  imaginary  fragment :  — 

"And  with  a  cry 

As  when  some  greedy  wight,  on  porridge  keen, 
Gulps  it,  and  bawleth  loud  to  find  it  hot,  — 
Screams  for  the  cook  and  tuggeth  at  his  sword  — " 

"Familiar,"  observed  Rose  dreamily  from  the  piano.  "Is 
it  'Pelleas  and  Etarre'  or  'The  Passing  of  Arthur'?" 

"Nope.  'The  Bold  Buccaneer,'  by  the  Honest  Iceman  of 
Mazoopa,"  answered  Phil. 

"And  here  he  is  now,"  said  Nan  as  the  front  door  boomed 
and  rattled. 

There  was  no  bell  at  the  Bartletts' :  but  from  the  door 
hung  a  bass-drumstick,  with  which  visitors  were  expected 
to  thump.  This  had  been  a  part  of  the  equipment  of  a  local 
band  that  had  retired  from  business.  In  the  dispersion  of 
its  instruments  the  drum  had  reached  a  second-hand  store. 
Nan,  with  a  keen  eye  for  such  chances,  had  bought  and  dis- 
mantled the  drum,  and  used  the  frame  as  a  stockade  for 
fresh  chirpers  from  her  incubator.  The  drumstick  seemed 
to  have  been  predestined  of  all  time  to  serve  as  a  knocker. 

"It's  Amy.    I  told  him  to  come,"  said  Phil. 

Her  father's  face  fell  almost  imperceptibly.  The  com- 
pany was  complete  as  it  was  and  much  as  he  liked  Amzi 
he  resented  his  appearance  at  this  hour.  Rose  went  to  the 
door. 

"  It  may  be  Judge  Walters.  He's  been  trying  to  get  over 
for  some  time  to  talk  about  that  new  book  on  hypnotism," 
said  Nan. 

It  proved,  however,  to  be  Amzi.  They  heard  him  telling 
Rose  in  the  entry  that  he  was  just  passing  and  thought  he 
would  drop  in. 

"That  will  do  for  that,  Amy,"  called  Phil.  "You  told  me 
you  were  coming." 

"I  told  you  nothing  of  the  kind!"  blustered  Amzi. 

"Then,  sir,  you  did  n't;  you  did  not!  " 

Amzi  glared  at  them  all  fiercely.  His  cherubic  countenance 


44 

was  so  benevolent,  the  kind  eyes  behind  his  spectacles  so 
completely  annulled  his  ferocity,  that  his  assumed  fierceness 
was  absurd. 

He  addressed  them  all  by  their  first  names,  and  drew  out  a 
cigar.  Kirkwood  was  smoking -his  pipe.  Phil  held  a  match 
for  her  uncle  and  placed  a  copper  ash-tray  on  the  table  at  his 
elbow.  Rose  continued  her  search  for  a  piece  of  music,  and 
Nan  curled  herself  on  the  corner  of  a  davenport  that  occu- 
pied one  side  of  the  room  under  the  open  bookshelves. 

"This  looks  like  a  full  session;  first  we've  had  for  some 
time,"  remarked  Amzi.   "Been  playing,  Rose?" 
"No;  Phil 's  trying  to  remember  a  tune.  Whistle  it,  Phil." 

Phil  whistled  it,  her  eyes  twinkling. 

"Sounds  like  a  dead  march  done  in  ragtime,"  suggested 
Nan,  whose  ear  was  said  to  be  faulty. 

"All  the  great  masters  will  be  done  over  pretty  soon  by 
the  raggists,"  declared  Phil. 

"Spoken  like  the  Philistine  you  are  not,  Phil,"  said  Kirk- 
wood.  "What  you  were  trying  to  whistle  is  the  'Lucia  Sex- 
tette '  upside  down.  Rose,  let 's  have  the '  Mozart  Minuet '  we 
used  to  play.  We  have  n't  had  it  for  moons." 

She  played  it,  Phil  turning  the  music.  Then  Kirkwood 
was  reminded  of  the  existence  of  his  'cello.  Amzi  watched 
him  tuning  it,  noted  the  operation  restlessly,  and  then  rose 
demanding :  — 

"  Nan,  where 's  my  flute?  Seems  to  me  I  left  it  here  the  last 
time  we  played." 

This  was  a  joke.  It  had  been  in  the  house  at  least  six 
years.  Phil  whistled  a  few  bars  from  a  current  light  opera, 
and  pretended  to  be  absorbed  in  an  old  etching  of  Beethoven 
that  hung  over  the  piano.  She  glanced  covertly  at  her  uncle, 
who  knew  perfectly  well  that  Phil  was  laughing  at  him.  Nan, 
meanwhile,  produced  the  flute.  It  was  in  this  fashion  that 
the  trio  was  usually  organized. 

"Bad  night  for  asthma,  but  let's  tackle  some  of  the  good 
old  ones,"  said  Amzi. 

This,  too,  was  part  of  a  familiar  formula,  and  Rose  found 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  45 

the  music.  Soon  Amzi's  cheeks  were  puffing  with  the  exer- 
tion of  fluting  the  "Minuet,"  while  Kirkwood  bent  to  the 
'cello.  Nan  and  Phil  became  an  attentive  audience  on  the 
davenport,  as  often  before.  When  Amzi  dropped  out  (as  he 
always  did),  Phil  piped  in  with  her  whistle,  and  that,  too, 
was  the  usual  procedure.  She  whistled  a  fair  imitation  of  the 
flute;  she  had  a  "good  ear";  Rose  said  her  "ear"  was  too 
good,  and  that  this  explained  her  impatience  of  systematic 
musical  instruction.  Amzi  abused  the  weather  and  incident- 
ally the  flute;  they  essayed  the  Bach-Gounod  "  Ave  Maria" 
and  the  "Traumerei,"  with  like  failure  on  Amzi's  part. 
Then  Rose  played,  number  after  number,  Beethoven,  Schu- 
mann, Chopin,  without  pause.  It  was  clear  that  the  woman 
loved  her  music ;  that  it  meant  a  very  great  deal  to  her.  Its 
significance  was  in  the  fine  lines  of  her  face,  beautifully 
grave,  but  lighting  wonderfully  through  passages  that  spoke 
to  her  with  special  meaning.  Her  profile  was  toward  Kirk- 
wood.  He  had,  indeed,  taken  a  seat  that  gave  him  a  particu- 
lar view  that  he  fancied  and  his  eyes  wandered  from  her 
hands  to  her  lovely,  highbred  face.  No  one  spoke  between 
the  numbers,  or  until  Rose,  sitting  quiet  a  moment  at  the 
end,  while  the  last  chord  died  away,  found  her  own  particular 
seat  by  the  white  wooden  mantel. 

"  I  guess  those  chaps  knew  their  business,"  observed  Amzi. 
"And  I  guess  you  know  yours,  Rose.  I  don't  know  that  you 
ever  brought  out  that  nocturne  quite  so  well  before.  Eh, 
Tom?" 

Kirkwood  agreed  with  him.  Rose  had  surpassed  herself, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  lawyer.  Both  men  found  pleasure  in 
paying  tribute  to  her  talents.  Amzi  turned  to  Nan,  who 
nodded  acquiescence.  The  banker  really  loved  music,  and 
slipped  away  several  times  every  winter  to  Chicago,  to  hear 
concerts  or  the  opera.  On  occasions  he  had  taken  Kirkwood 
and  Phil  and  they  had  made  a  great  lark  of  it. 

"What's  this  rumor  about  the  Sycamore  Traction  being 
in  trouble?"  asked  Nan. 

Amzi  rubbed  his  head.   He  had  not  come  to  the  Bartletts' 


46  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

to  discuss  business,  and  the  topic  was  not,  moreover,  one 
that  interested  him  at  the  moment. 

"There  are  a  lot  of  papers  on  your  desk  about  that, 
daddy,"  Phil  remarked.  "  But  I  suppose  those  are  office 
secrets." 

There  was,  indeed,  a  telegram  from  a  New  York  lawyer 
asking  why  Kirkwood  had  not  replied  to  a  certain  letter.  He 
glanced  at  her  quickly,  apparently  disturbed  that  the  matter 
had  been  mentioned.  Her  father's  inattention  to  the  letter 
of  the  New  York  lawyer  had,  independently  of  Nan  Bart- 
lett's  reference  to  the  traction  company,  caused  Phil  to  make 
certain  resolutions  touching  both  her  father  and  herself. 

"I've  got  my  hand  on  that,  Phil.   I  Ve  answered." 

Phil  saw  that  the  subject  of  this  correspondence,  whose 
import  she  had  scarcely  grasped,  was  not  to  be  brought  into 
the  conversation.  She  turned  away  as  Amzi  addressed  her 
father  in  a  low  tone. 

"Tom,  as  I  remember,  you  made  a  report  on  that  scheme 
before  the  bonds  were  sold.  Do  you  mind  telling  me  whether 
that  was  for  the  same  crowd  that  finally  took  it  up?" 

"Yes;  but  they  cut  down  the  amount  they  undertook  to 
float.  Sam  Holton  sold  a  lot  of  the  bonds  along  the  line; 
a  good  many  of  them  are  held  right  here  in  this  county." 

"They  are,  indeed.  It  seemed  a  plausible  thing  for  the 
home  folks  to  own  the  securities  of  a  company  that  was  going 
to  do  so  much  for  the  town;  they  pulled  that  string  hard. 
It  was  a  scheme  to  draw  the  coin  out  of  the  old  stocking 
under  the  fireplace.  If  it  was  good  for  widows  and  orphans 
out  in  Seattle  and  Bangor,  why  was  n't  it  good  for  'em  at 
home?  And  it  is  good  for  the  people  at  home  if  it's  played 
straight.  I  've  had  an  idea  that  these  cross-country  trolleys 
will  have  about  the  same  history  the  steam  roads  had,  —  a 
good  many  of  'em  will  bust  and  the  original  investors  will  see 
their  securities  shrink;  and  there  will  be  smash-ups  and 
shake-downs  and  then  in  time  the  lines  will  pay.  Just  what 's 
the  trouble  here,  Tom,  if  you  don't  mind?" 

"There's  an  apprehension  that  the  November  interest 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  47 

won't  be  paid.  The  company's  had  some  hard  luck  —  a 
wreck  that  's  piled  up  a  lot  of  damage  suits,  for  one  thing; 
and  in  one  or  two  counties  the  commissioners  are  trying  to 
make  them  pay  for  new  bridges  —  a  question  of  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  franchise.  I  gave  warning  of  that  possi- 
bility." 

"Thunder!  I  hope  it  won't  come  to  the  worst.  I  did  n't 
know  you  were  keeping  track  of  it." 

"One  of  my  old  classmates  at  Williams  is  counsel  for 
the  Desbrosses  Trust  and  Guaranty  Company  which  is  the 
trustee  for  the  bondholders.  I  passed  on  the  mortgage  for 
them  as  to  its  local  aspects.  I  'm  going  over  to  Indianapolis 
to  meet  him  in  a  few  days  to  determine  what  to  do  in  event 
the  interest  is  defaulted.  The  management  has  been  unsatis- 
factory, and  after  five  years  the  replacements  are  running 
ahead  of  the  estimates." 

"I  wonder — "  began  Amzi;  then  he  paused  and  rubbed 
his  scalp.  "I  suppose  my  neighbor  Bill  is  already  out  from 
under." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Kirkwood  soberly.  "It  was  Sam 
who  was  the  chief  promoter." 

" Sam  was  a  smooth  proposition.  Thunder!  I  lost  money 
when  Sam  died.  I  'd  made  a  bet  with  myself  that  they  'd  pin 
something  on  him  before  he  got  through,  but  he  died  just 
out  of  spite  to  make  me  lose.  Thunder!  Bill  makes  strong 
statements." 

The  strength  of  the  statements  made  by  the  First  National 
Bank  did  not,  however,  seem  to  disturb  Amzi.  What  he  had 
learned  from  Kirkwood  had  not  been  in  the  nature  of  fresh 
information,  but  it  had  confirmed  certain  suspicions  touch- 
ing the  Sycamore  Traction  Company.  The  Bartletts  and 
Phil  were  talking  quietly  in  a  corner.  Amzi  rose  and  pulled 
down  his  percale  waistcoat  and  buttoned  the  top  button  of 
his  cutaway  coat,  in  which  he  looked  very  much  like  a  fat 
robin.  He  advanced  toward  the  group  in  the  corner. 

"Nan,"  he  said,  "you  did  n't  buy  a  Sycamore  bond  that 
time  I  told  you  not  to,  did  you?" 


48  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Rose  beat  time  for  her  sister  mockingly,  and  they  answered 
in  singsong. 

"We  did  not!  We  did  not!  But,"  Nan  added,  dropping 
her  hands  to  her  sides  tragically,  "but  if  we  had,  oh,  sir!" 

"  If  you  had  I  should  have  bought  it  of  you  at  a  premium. 
It's  hard  work  being  a  banker  for  women:  they  all  want  ten 
per  cent  a  month." 

"  Paul  Fosdick's  things  were  all  guaranteed  ten  per  cent  a 
year,"  remarked  Rose. 

They  all  waited  for  the  explosion  that  must  follow  the 
mention  of  this  particular  brother-in-law.  Nowhere  else  in 
town  would  any  one  have  dared  to  bring  Fosdick,  who  was 
believed  to  be  his  pet  abomination,  into  a  conversation. 
Even  in  Hastings  he  found  a  kind  of  joy;  the  presence  of  a 
retired  Hamlet  among  the  foliage  of  the  family  tree  was 
funny  now  that  he  had  got  used  to  it;  and  Amzi  had  a 
sense  of  humor.  This  little  company  expected  him  to  ex- 
plode and  he  must  not  disappoint  them.  The  color  mounted 
to  his  bald  dome  and  his  eyes  bulged. 

"Thunder!  Rose,  play  that  jiggly  funeral  march  of  a 
marionette!" 

"I  refuse,"  said  Rose,  spreading  her  skirts  on  the  divan, 
"to  do  anything  so  cruel!" 

"And  besides,"  said  Nan,  "  I  bought  a  share  of  stock  in  his 
brickyard." 

"Nan  Bartlett,"  said  Amzi,  planting  himself  before  her, 
"I  will  give  you  a  peck  of  parsnips  for  that  share." 

"Could  n't  take  advantage  of  you,  Amzi;  and  we  never 
eat  parsnips.  They're  bad  for  the  complexion." 

"Thunder!"  he  snorted  contemptuously. 

"Thunder  "  was  his  favorite,  almost  his  only,  expletive,  but 
his  thunder  was  only  a  single  boom  without  reverberations. 
His  four  auditors  understood  him  perfectly,  however.  Fos- 
dick was  always  "starting"  something.  He  had  even  at- 
tempted to  organize  a  new  cemetery  association,  which,  as 
Greenlawn  was  commodious,  and  as  any  amount  of  land 
adjacent  made  possible  its  indefinite  expansion,  Amzi  re- 


98  BUCKEYE  LANE  49 

garded  as  an  absurd  and  unholy  project.  With  Fosdick, 
Amzi  had  no  business  relations  of  any  kind.  He  belonged 
to  the  Commercial  Club,  to  be  sure,  but  this  was  a  conces- 
sion on  his  part ;  he  never  attended  any  of  its  meetings.  And 
he  had,  it  was  said,  requested  his  enterprising  brother-in- 
law  to  withdraw  his  patronage  from  the  Montgomery  Bank 
for  reasons  never  wholly  clear  to  the  curious.  Fosdick  had 
talked  about  it  in  bitterness  of  spirit;  Amzi  had  not.  Amzi 
never  talked  of  his  business.  He  rarely  lost  a  customer; 
and  if  a  citizen  transferred  his  account  to  the  First  or  the 
Citizens'  National,  it  was  assumed  that  Amzi  no  longer 
cared  particularly  to  have  that  individual  on  his  ledgers. 
Such  a  transfer  aroused  in  cautious  minds  a  degree  of  sus- 
picion, for  horses  rarely  died  in  Amzi's  stable. 

"Thunder!  It's  time  to  go  home.  Guess  the  rain's 
stopped." 

Amzi  set  out  for  home  with  the  Kirkwoods.  He  was  in 
capital  spirits,  and  kept  up  a  steady  give  and  take  with 
Phil.  Just  before  reaching  his  own  gate  they  passed  Kirk- 
wood's  former  home.  Amzi's  sisters  persistently  demanded 
that  something  be  done  about  the  abandoned  house,  which, 
with  its  neglected  garden,  was  a  mournful  advertisement  of 
their  sister's  ill-doings.  It  had  been  a  shock  to  them  to  dis- 
cover, a  few  years  after  her  flight,  that  it  had  passed  from 
her  to  Amzi  and  from  him  to  Kirkwood.  The  consideration 
had  been  adequate ;  the  county  records  told  the  story  plainly. 
There  was,  of  course,  no  reason  why  Lois  should  continue  to 
own  a  house  for  which  she  had  no  use;  but  there  was  less 
reason  why  her  former  husband  should  acquire  the  property 
merely,  as  it  seemed,  from  motives  of  sentiment.  Every  weed 
in  the  garden  —  and  the  crop  was  abundant  —  called  atten- 
tion to  the  blot  on  the  Montgomery  'scutcheon.  And  if 
Kirkwood  was  silly  enough  to  cling  to  the  old  home,  while 
living  in  a  rented  house  in  a  less  agreeable  neighborhood, 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  refuse  to  lease  it  and  de- 
vote the  income  to  Phil's  upbringing. 

It  was  not  a  cheerful  item  of  the  urban  landscape  and  the 


50  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

sorrow  of  Amzi's  sisters  that  it  should  remain  dolefully  at 
their  own  thresholds  was  pardonable.  The  moon  looked 
down  at  it  soberly  through  dispersing  clouds  as  though 
grieved  by  its  disrepair.  The  venerable  forest  trees  that 
gave  distinction  to  the  "old  Montgomery  place"  had  shaken 
their  leaves  upon  this  particular  part  and  parcel  of  the  elder 
Amzi's  acres,  and  piled  them  upon  the  veranda  steps.  The 
gate,  fastened  to  the  post  by  a  chain  and  padlock,  sagged 
badly,  and  bulged  upon  the  public  walk. 

Amzi  stopped  and  pushed  it  back,  causing  the  chain  to 
rattle  dolorously.  Kirkwood  watched  him  indifferently.  Phil 
lent  her  uncle  a  hand.  Amzi,  panting  from  his  efforts,  ejac- 
ulated: "Thunder!"  and  a  moment  later  they  bade  each 
other  good-night  under  the  gaslamp  at  his  own  gate. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A   TRANSACTION   IN   APPLES 

PHIL  was  not  visible  the  next  morning  when  at  seven 
o'clock  Kirkwood  glanced  about  the  house  for  her.  She  had 
indulged  herself  in  the  matter  of  rising  since  the  high-school 
bell  no  longer  regulated  her  habits,  and  her  father  had  hardly 
expected  to  see  her.  There  was  no  morning  newspaper  to 
read — he  took  a  Chicago  daily  at  his  office  —  and  he  opened 
the  windows  and  doors  to  admit  the  air.  Domestic  affairs 
interested  Thomas  Kirkwood  little.  During  the  years  in 
which  Phil  was  passed  from  aunt  to  aunt  he  had  lived  at  the 
Morton  House,  and  after  establishing  the  new  home  that  he 
might  have  her  with  him,  one  or  another  of  the  aunts  had 
supervised  his  household,  and  at  times,  to  his  discomfiture, 
all  had  taken  a  hand  at  it. 

This  rented  cottage  where  the  Kirkwoods  lived  was  in  the 
least  fashionable  part  of  Main  Street,  beyond  the  commer- 
cial district  and  near  the  railroad.  Trains  thundered  through 
a  cut  not  far  from  the  rear  fence,  and  the  cars  of  the  Syca- 
more Traction  Company  rumbled  by  at  intervals.  The  cot- 
tage was  old  but  comfortable,  and  it  was  remarked  that 
Kirkwood  had  probably  chosen  it  for  the  reason  that  he 
could  go  to  and  from  his  office  without  passing  his  abandoned 
home.  Phil  liked  living  on  Main  Street.  Her  devotion  to  that 
thoroughfare  had  been  a  source  of  great  pain  to  her  aunts. 
Even  as  her  Uncle  Amzi  absorbed  local  color  from  the  steps 
of  his  bank,  Phil  was  an  alert  agent  in  the  field,  on  nodding 
terms  with  the  motormen  of  the  interurban  cars,  and  with 
the  jehus,  who,  cigarette  in  mouth  and  hat  tipped  on  one 
side,  drove  the  village  hacks.  Captain  Joshua  Wilson,  who 
had  been  recorder  of  his  county  continuously  since  he  lost  a 
leg  at  Missionary  Ridge,  and  who  wrote  a  poem  every  year 


5*  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

for  the  reunion  of  his  regiment,  had  written  certain  lines  for 
the  "Evening  Star"  in  which  "P.  K."  was  addressed  as 
the  Diana  of  Main  Street.  As  to  the  soundness  of  his  myth- 
ology there  might  be  debate,  but  there  was  no  question  as 
to  Phil's  thorough  identification  with  Main  Street,  all  the 
way  from  her  father's  house,  past  the  court-house,  shops, 
and  banks,  out  to  the  old  Sugar  Creek  Bridge  where  the 
town  became  .country  without  any  warning  whatever. 

It  was  Judge  Walters  who  first  called  her  "Otherwise 
Phyllis."  This  was  in  Phil's  school  days  before  she  passed 
from  her  aunts'  custody.  The  judge  delighted  in  Phil's 
battles  with  the  aunts.  Whenever  his  wife  began  to  recount 
a  day's  occurrences  at  the  supper-table,  and  the  recital 
opened  promisingly,  it  was  the  judge's  habit  to  cut  short  her 
prefaces  with,  "Otherwise  Phyllis  — "  and  bid  her  hurry  on 
to  the  catastrophe,  sparing  no  tragic  detail. 

Kirkwood  had  never,  from  the  day  his  wife  left  him,  of- 
fered himself  in  the  market-place  as  an  object  of  sympathy. 
He  had  been  a  man  of  reserves  at  all  times,  and  the  sudden 
termination  of  his  married  life  had  merely  driven  him  in 
further  upon  himself.  If  he  was  broken-hearted,  the  frag- 
ments were  well  hidden.  He  felt  that  he  was  a  failure,  and 
he  saw  men  of  less  ability  passing  him  in  the  race.  Now  and 
then  he  had  roused  himself  under  stress  and  demonstrated 
his  unusual  gifts  by  striking  successes ;  but  after  one  of  these 
spurts  he  would  relapse  into  an  indifference  to  which  he 
seemed  increasingly  ready  to  yield. 

He  had  risen  this  morning  with  a  new  resolution,  attribut- 
able to  his  talk  with  Nan  Bartlett  the  night  before.  Even  if 
he  did  not  care  for  himself,  there  was  always  Phil  to  consider. 
And  Phil  was  very  much  to  consider.  She  had  decided  for 
herself  that  the  high  school  had  given  her  all  the  education 
she  needed.  Kirkwood  had  weighed  the  matter  carefully 
and  decided  that  she  would  not  profit  greatly  by  a  college 
course  —  a  decision  which  Phil  had  stoutly  supported.  Her 
aunts  favored  a  year  at  a  finishing  school  to  tone  down  her 
rough  edges,  but  having  laid  their  plan  before  their  brother 


A  TRANSACTION  IN  APPLES  53 

Amzi  that  gentleman  had  sniffed  at  it.  What  was  the  use  of 
spoiling  Phil?  he  demanded.  "Thunder!"  And  there  was 
no  reason  in  the  world  why  Phil  should  be  spoiled. 

Phil  was  not,  in  any  view  of  the  case,  an  ignorant  person. 
She  knew  a  great  many  things  that  were  not  embraced  in  the 
high-school  curriculum.  Her  father  harbored  an  old-fash- 
ioned love  of  the  poets;  which  is  not  merely  to  say  that  at 
some  time  in  his  life  he  had  run  through  them,  but  that  he 
read  poetry  as  one  ordinarily  reads  novels,  quite  naturally 
and  without  shame.  Something  of  his  own  love  of  poetry 
had  passed  to  his  daughter.  He  had  so  trained  her  that  lit- 
erature meant  to  Phil  not  printed  pages,  but  veritable  nature 
and  life.  Books  were  a  matter  of  course,  to  be  taken  up  and 
put  down  as  the  reader  pleased,  and  nothing  to  grow  prig- 
gish about.  She  had  caught  from  him  an  old  habit,  formed  in 
his  undergraduate  days,  of  alight,  whimsical  use  of  historical 
and  literary  allusions.  She  entered  zestfully  into  the  spirit 
of  this  kind  of  fooling;  and,  to  his  surprise,  she  had  developed 
an  astonishing  knack  of  imitation  and  parody.  Sometimes 
Kirkwood  without  preluding,  would  utter  a  line  for  Phil  to 
cap;  they  even  composed  sonnets  in  this  antiphonal  fashion 
and  pronounced  them  superior  to  the  average  magazine 
product.  Phil  had  not  only  learned  much  from  her  father,  but 
she  had  absorbed  a  great  deal  of  lore  at  the  Bartletts',  where 
everything  bookish  was  vitalized  and  humanized. 

Kirkwood,  hearing  the  creak  of  the  swinging  door  between 
the  pantry  and  dining-room,  —  a  familiar  breakfast  signal, 
—  chose  with  care  a  volume  of  Bagehot  and  carried  it  to  the 
table  which  had  been  set,  he  imagined,  by  the  "girl"  se- 
lected by  his  sisters-in-law  to  carry  on  his  establishment 
during  the  winter. 

He  helped  himself  to  grapes,  and  was  eating  with  his  eye 
on  a  page  of  Bagehot  when  the  door  swung  again  and  Phil 
piped  a  cheerful  good-morning.  She  was  an  aproned  young 
Phil  and  her  face  was  flushed  from  recent  proximity  to  the 
range.  She  described  her  entrance  in  lines  she  had  fashioned 
for  the  purpose :  — 


54  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"She  came 

While  yet  the  jocund  day  was  young,  and  fetched 
In  hands  but  lightly  singed  upon  the  stove 
The  coffee-pot,  with  muddy  contents  filled  — " 

Kirkwood,  concealing  his  surprise  at  seeing  her,  took  his 
cue:  — 

"And  he,  toying  meanwhile  with  fruitage  of  the  vine, 
To-wit  the  mellow  grape,  scarce  breathed  to  see 
The  nut-brown  maid,  and  gasped,  'Where  is  the  cook?'" 

"  Oh,  the  cook  has  went,  to  come  down  to  the  plain  prose 
of  it,  daddy.  There  was  one  here  yesterday,  but  one's 
dynastic  aunts  had  picked  her  for  her  powers  of  observation 
and  ready  communication,  so  I  fired  her  hence.  And  with 
that  careless  grace  which  I  hope  you  find  becoming  in  me 
I  decided  to  run  the  shop  all  by  my  lonesome  for  a  while.  I 
though  I  'd  start  with  breakfast  so  that  any  poisons  that 
may  creep  into  the  victuals  wrill  have  time  to  work  while  the 
drug-stores  are  open.  How  long  do  you  cook  an  egg,  is  it  two 
minutes  or  two  weeks?" 

"This  will  never  do,"  said  Kirkwood  gravely,  watching 
her  pour  the  coffee.  "You  should  n't  have  discharged  one 
cook  until  you  had  another." 

"Tut!  There's  not  enough  to  do  in  this  house  for  two 
able-bodied  women  —  and  I  'm  one !  Rose  taught  me  how  to 
make  coffee  yesterday,  and  toast  and  eggs  are  easy.  Just 
look  at  that  coffee!  Real  amber?  It's  an  improvement  for 
looks  on  what  you've  been  brewing  for  yourself  in  camp. 
And  I  Ve  been  watching  your  winning  ways  with  the  camp 
frying-pan.  Rose  gave  me  a  cook-book  that  is  full  of  per- 
fectly adorable  ideas.  Come  up  for  lunch  and  I  '11  show  you 
some  real  creations." 

She  slipped  away  into  the  kitchen  and  reappeared  with 
toast  and  boiled  eggs.  She  had  cooked  the  eggs  by  the  watch 
as  Rose  had  instructed  her.  Her  father  relaxed  the  severity 
of  his  countenance  to  commend  them.  But  he  did  not  like 
Phil  in  this  new  r61e.  The  casting  forth  of  the  cook  provided 
by  the  aunts  would  be  regarded  as  an  offense  not  lightly  to 


A  TRANSACTION  IN  APPLES  55 

be  passed  by  those  ladies;  but  Phil  had  never  appeared  so 
wholly  self-possessed.  She  poured  coffee  for  herself,  diluted 
it  with  hot  water,  buttered  a  slice  of  toast  with  composure, 
tasted  it  and  complained  that  the  grocer  had  sent  rancid 
butter. 

Kirkwood  pushed  aside  his  Bagehot.  He  did  not  know  just 
how  to  deal  with  a  daughter  who,  without  the  slightest 
warning,  dispatched  her  cook  and  took  upon  herself  the 
burden  of  the  household.  The  coffee  was  to  his  liking ;  it  was 
indubitably  better  than  he  had  been  used  to;  but  the  thing 
would  not  do.  He  must  show  Phil  the  error  of  her  ways  and 
lose  no  time  about  it. 

"  I  'm  sorry  you  did  n't  like  the  girl  they  sent  you ;  but  you 
must  find  another.  There's  no  reason,  of  course,  why  you 
should  n't  choose  for  yourself ;  but  it 's  not  easy  to  find  help  in 
a  town  like  this.  I  can't  have  you  doing  the  housework. 
That  must  be  understood,  Phil." 

"You're  not  having  me;  I'm  having  me,  which  is  a  very 
different  thing.  If  you  had  driven  me  into  the  kitchen  with 
loud,  furious  words,  I  should  have  rebelled  —  screamed,  and 
made  a  terrible  scene.  But  you  did  nothing  of  the  kind. 
It  happened  in  this  wise.  Glancing  up  quite  by  chance,  as 
it  were,  you  beheld  me  pouring  coffee  of  my  own  brewing. 
Fatherly  pride  extinguished  any  feeling  of  shock  or  chagrin. 
You  have  smothered  any  class  feeling  that  may  linger  in 
your  aristocratic  soul  and  are  making  a  good  bluff  at  enjoy- 
ing the  eating  of  your  breakfast  with  the  lady  who  cooked  it. 
Could  anything  be  more  beautiful  ?  The  ayes  seem  to  have  it ; 
the  ayes  have  it,  as  I  used  to  be  fond  of  saying  when  I  was 
boss  of  the  Philomathean.  I  wish  now  I  'd  taken  the  domes- 
tic science  course  more  seriously  and  spent  less  time  in  the 
gymnasium.  But  thus  it  is  we  live  and  learn." 

Phil's  tone  made  rebuke  difficult.  He  loved  her  foolish- 
ness just  as  her  Uncle  Amzi  did  —  just  as  every  one  did 
except  her  aunts,  for  whom  the  affected  stiltedness  of  her 
speech  was  merely  a  part  of  her  general  deplorable  uncon- 
ventionality. 


56  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Well,  Phil,  the  idea  of  your  cooking  the  meals  for  this 
establishment  is  n't  debatable.  You  're  overruled  and  the 
debate  closed." 

"Still  harping  on  my  daughter's  cooking!  Please,  in  cur- 
rent idiom,  cut  it  out.  Try  marmalade  on  that  too,  too  per- 
fect toast." 

He  accepted  marmalade  and  returned  to  the  attack. 

"You  see,  Phil,  everything 's  different  now.  You  Ve  got  to 
wake  up  to  your  social  responsibilities." 

"And  be  a  perfect  lady?  I  know.  Amy  got  me  into  the 
back  room  of  the  bank  yesterday  and  told  me.  One's  aunts 
had  bullied  the  old  dear  into  springing  the  sad  intelligence. 
Then  Nan  had  already  given  me  a  session.  And  now  you, 
too,  Brutus,  are  about  to  lay  the  matter  before  me  in  a  few 
crisp  sentences.  But  why  all  this  assumption  that  I  'm  not  a 
real  lady?  There's  a  good  deal  of  loose  thinking  on  that 
subject,  to  use  one  of  your  own  best  phrases.  If  there  is 
nothing  more  before  the  house  — " 

Phil  had  been  studiously  stuccoing  her  toast  with  marma- 
lade, and  she  bit  into  it  before  looking  at  her  father. 

"You  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean,  Phil.  This  is  a 
serious  time  in  your  life.  You  Ve  got  to  adapt  yourself  to 
the  ways  of  the  world  —  the  world  of  convention.  You  must 
consider  yourself  as  a  member  of  society.  It's  only  in  a 
limited  sense  that  we  can  be  individualists.  And  I  can't 
have  my  daughter  weighed  down  with  such  cares  as  these 
you  threaten  to  assume.  It  would  hurt  me  more  than  I  can 
tell  you  if  I  believed  it  necessary.  But  it  isn't  necessary. 
None  the  less  I  know  perfectly  well  that  if  it  were  necessary 
you  would  be  equal  to  it  —  you  are  equal  to  anything  you 
undertake.  But  I  can't  have  you  wasting  yourself  on  such 
things." 

"Daddy  dear,  this  is  getting  terribly  philosophical.  Let 
us  be  really  serious  for  a  little  bit.  You  know,  we  have  n't 
much  money,  have  we?  Not  very  much,  anyhow." 

She  had  broached  the  matter  as  delicately  as  possible. 
It  had  been  in  her  mind  that  she  must  speak  to  her  fathe? 


A  TRANSACTION  IN  APPLES  57 

about  their  affairs,  but  she  had  not  thought  the  opportunity 
would  offer  so  quickly.  It  was  hard  to  say  to  him  that  she 
had  undertaken  to  manage  the  housekeeping  as  an  econom- 
ical measure ;  that  she  knew  he  owed  money  that  he  had  no 
immediate  prospect  of  paying. 

The  hurt  look  that  she  had  seen  in  his  eyes  sometimes 
was  heartbreaking.  When  Phil  was  younger,  she  used  to  ask 
about  her  mother,  but  later  she  had  never  referred  to  her. 
Her  aunts  had,  after  their  fashion,  not  been  above  using  her 
mother  to  point  a  moral.  In  their  lack  of  appreciation  of 
the  keenness  of  the  child's  intuitions  or  her  eager  imagina- 
tion, they  had  established  in  her  a  belief  that  her  mother  was 
a  bad  woman:  the  facts  spoke  for  themselves.  And  having 
had  a  bad  mother  it  was  incumbent  upon  Phil  to  choose 
her  path  with  a  particular  care  and  to  walk  in  it  circum- 
spectly. 

Phil  had,  by  this  time,  considered  the  case  from  the  chang- 
ing viewpoints  natural  to  the  young  mind.  In  that  rosy  light 
through  which  a  girl  of  fifteen  is  apt  to  view  life,  —  the  first 
realizations  of  sex,  the  age  of  the  first  novels,  —  Phil  had  not 
been  free  from  the  contemplation  of  her  mother  as  a  roman- 
tic figure.  For  a  woman  to  forsake  a  husband  for  a  lover  was 
not  without  precedents.  Phil  had  dreamed  over  this  a  good 
deal,  in  an  impersonal  sort  of  way,  and  the  unknown  mother 
had  been  glorified  in  scenes  of  renunciation,  following  nobly 
the  high  call  of  a  greater  love.  By  a  swift  transition  her 
father  assumed  the  sympathetic  r61e  in  the  domestic  drama. 
She  chanced  upon  novels  in  which  the  spurned  husband  was 
exalted  to  the  shame  of  the  dishonorable  wife.  Her  father 
fitted  well  into  this  picture.  She  even  added  herself  to  the 
dramatis  persona,  not  without  a  sense  of  her  value  in  the 
scene.  But  these  were  only  passing  phases.  There  was  no 
morbid  strain  in  Phil.  Her  father  was  the  best  of  companions, 
and  she  was  quick  to  recognize  his  fineness  and  gentleness 
and  to  appreciate  his  cultivation  with  its  background  of  solid 
learning. 

Phil's  question  startled  her  father.  Money  had  never  been 


5«  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

discussed  in  the  household,  and  this  new  gravity  in  his 
daughter's  eyes  troubled  him.  Phil's  needs  had  been  few ;  her 
demands  had  burdened  him  little.  Her  aunts  had  bought 
her  clothes  and  sent  him  the  bills.  When  he  gave  her  money 
to  spend,  he  never  asked  for  an  accounting,  though  he  was 
often  amused  by  the  uses  to  which  she  put  it ;  and  sometimes 
he  had  been  touched  by  her  gifts  at  Christmas  or  on  his 
birthdays,  which  ranged  from  a  reckless  investment  in  gay 
neckties  to  a  set  of  some  author  whose  definitive  edition  he 
had  coveted  —  Shelley  or  Landor  or  Matthew  Arnold.  No; 
money  was  not  a  subject  that  had  interested  Phil,  and  her 
father  found  her  direct  question  disconcerting. 

"No,  Phil.  We  are  not  rich  —  far  from  it.  It's  hardly 
possible  for  a  lawyer  to  grow  rich  in  a  town  like  this.  But  I 
have  n't  been  doing  as  well  as  I  could  lately.  I  Ve  got  to  do 
better  and  I  must  be  about  it." 

He  drew  himself  up  in  his  chair  and  glanced  at  his  watch. 
It  had  stopped,  and  as  the  court-house  clock  boomed  eight 
he  set  it.  It  was  quite  like  him  to  allow  his  watch  to  run 
down. 

"I  was  in  your  office  yesterday,  daddy,  and  I  hope  you 
won't  mind,  but  I  was  straightening  your  desk  and  I  could  n't 
help  seeing  some  old  bills.  Several  of  them  had  been  there 
a  long  time.  My  graduating  dress  has  n't  been  paid  for 
—  and  some  things  like  that.  We  must  economize  until 
those  bills  are  paid.  And  I  was  thinking  that  you  ought  to 
get  more  money  out  of  the  building.  Rents  are  going  up  on 
Main  Street.  I  heard  Paul  Fosdick  say  so.  You  ought  to 
raise  the  clothing  store  rent  right  away.  I  don't  know  of 
any  easier  way  of  getting  money,"  she  added  drolly,  "than 
by  wringing  it  from  the  tenants." 

She  laughed,  to  make  it  easier  for  him. 

"Yes;  that's  one  way  of  doing  it;  only  Bernstein  had  a 
long  lease  that  expires  —  I  'm  not  sure  when  it  does  ex- 
pire—  "  he  concluded,  and  the  color  deepened  in  his  dark 
cheeks.  It  was  his  business  to  know  when  the  lease  on  the 
property  expired,  and  as  though  reminded  by  this  lapse  of 


A  TRANSACTION  IN  APPLES  59 

similar  failures  in  other  directions,  he  drew  out  his  watch 
again  and  made  sure  that  ke  had  wound  it. 

"It  expires,"  said  Phil,  "on  the  last  day  of  this  next 
December.  I  looked  it  up  yesterday  afternoon  in  that  little 
memorandum  book  you  keep  in  your  desk." 

"  I  guess  that 's  right.  I  'm  glad  you  mentioned  it.  I  '11  see 
Bernstein  right  away  and  ask  him  if  he  wants  to  renew  the 
lease.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  coax  a  higher  rent  out  of  him, 
but  he's  been  there  a  long  time." 

"Oh,  he'll  stand  another  fifty  and  be  glad  of  it.  His  sign 
is  on  all  the  fences  in  the  country  —  '  Bernstein's  —  The 
Same  Old  Place.'  It  would  cost  him  some  money  to  change 
that.  And  you  could  cheer  him  up  by  painting  the  front  of 
the  building.  The  interurban  is  bringing  a  lot  more  business 
to  Montgomery.  I  've  been  thinking  we  ought  to  do  some- 
thing about  that  third  floor  room  where  the  photograph 
shop  used  to  be.  Bernstein  has  an  upstairs  room  in  the  next 
building  where  his  tailor  imparts  that  final  deft  touch  that 
adjusts  readymade  garments  to  the  most  difficult  figure.  It 
would  be  handier  for  him  to  conduct  the  sartorial  transfor- 
mations in  the  chamber  over  his  own  gate,  would  n't  it? 
And  I  don't  think  we  need  wait  for  that  photographer  to 
come  back  from  the  penitentiary  or  wherever  he  languisheth." 

She  was  minimizing  the  significance  of  these  suggestions 
—  a  significance  that  lay,  she  knew,  in  the  fact  of  their  com- 
ing from  her  —  by  lapsing  into  the  absurdities  with  which 
she  embellished  her  familiar  talk.  She  pronounced  "lan- 
guisheth" with  a  prolongation  of  the  last  syllable  that  gave 
to  it  a  characteristic  touch  of  mockery. 

"I'd  been  hoping  he'd  show  up  again  and  cart  off  his 
rubbish.  But  we've  had  some  fun  out  of  the  gallery.  If  we 
rent  it  to  Bernstein  for  his  retouching  mysteries,  we  shan't 
have  any  place  to  develop  our  negatives." 

"That's  so;  but  maybe  we  can  retouch  Bernstein  for 
enough  extra  to  get  them  done  for  us.  It's  the  ducats,  my 
lord,  that  move  my  fancy.  The  Bernsteins  have  grown  al- 
most disagreeably  rich  at  the  same  old  stand  and  it 's  about 


60  *    OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

time  the  Kirkwoods  were  thrusting  their  talons  into  the 
treasure  chest." 

Sounds  of  disaster  in  the  kitchen  caused  Phil  to  rise  hastily 
and  disappear  through  the  swing  doors.  She  returned  calmly 
a  moment  later. 

"Only  the  tea-kettle  playing  at  being  a  geyser.  When  we 
get  rich  I  'm  going  to  have  a  gas  range.  They  say  it 's  the 
only  way  to  cook  and  cook  and  be  a  lady  still." 

"That  brings  us  back  to  cooking —  "  began  her  father. 

"Not  at  all,  daddy.  The  subject  is  dismissed  forever. 
I  'm  going  to  have  that  Ethiop  who  does  chores  for  us  clean 
up  the  photograph  gallery.  I  '11  be  down  after  while,  to  see 
how  it  looks." 

She  bade  him  good-bye  at  the  front  door,  and  went 
whistling  about  the  further  business  of  the  morning.  The 
sky  was  blue  and  the  air  warmed  as  the  sun  climbed  into 
the  heavens.  Phil  felt  that  she  had  conveyed  to  her  father 
a  sense  of  their  imperative  needs  without  wounding  him. 
She  was  resolved  to  help  him  if  she  could.  Her  pride  had 
been  pricked  by  her  Uncle  Amzi's  proffered  aid,  which 
she  had  carefully  avoided  mentioning  to  her  father.  She 
knew  that  it  would  have  hurt  him,  and  she  had  reasoned, 
much  in  the  fashion  pf  Nan  Bartlett,  that  her  father  owed 
it  to  himself  to  exercise  his  unquestioned  gifts  to  reestablish 
himself  in  his  profession.  As  he  left  her  and  walked  toward 
the  street,  she  was  aware  that  he  strode  away  more  quickly 
than  was  his  wont. 

Phil's  morning  was  not  eventless.  The  telephone  jingled 
three  times,  as  three  aunts  demanded  to  know  why  she  had 
parted  with  the  maid-of-all-work  they  had  installed  in  the 
Kirkwood  kitchen.  Aunt  Josie  was  censorious  and  Aunt 
Fanny  mildly  remonstrative ;  Aunt  Kate  sought  light  as  to 
the  reason  for  the  cook's  early  passing,  as  she  was  anxious  to 
try  her  herself.  Phil  disposed  of  these  calls  with  entire  good 
humor.  Then  a  senior,  between  lectures  at  the  college,  asked 
her  if  she  would  go  driving  with  him  Sunday  afternoon.  The 
senior,  in  the  security  of  his  fraternity  house,  prolonged  the 


A  TRANSACTION  IN  APPLES  61 

conversation.  As  this  was  Thursday  and  there  was  never 
any  imperative  need  in  Montgomery  for  making  engage- 
ments so  far  ahead,  the  senior  was  exercising  unjustifiable 
precaution.  Phil  declined  the  invitation.  Her  aunts  had 
repeatedly  warned  her  against  college  boys.  A  daughter  of 
the  house  of  Montgomery  was  not  to  waste  herself  upon 
students,  a  lawless  body  of  whom  no  one  knew  anything  in 
particular  save  that  they  seized  every  opportunity  to  murder 
sleep  for  reputable  citizens. 

Phil  employed  the  telephone  to  order  of  the  grocer  and 
butcher,  made  beds,  swept  rooms,  and  sat  down  with  a  new 
magazine,  dropped  at  the  door  by  the  postman,  to  run  her 
eyes  over  the  pictures.  One  or  two  things  she  was  sure  her 
father  would  like ;  a  sketch  of  Massenet  she  must  call  to  Rose 
Bartlett's  attention.  She  planned  luncheon  and  began  the 
peeling  of  potatoes  with  a  page  of  Keats  propped  on  the 
table  beside  her  —  a  trick  she  had  learned  at  the  Bartletts'. 
"Endymion"  need  suffer  nothing  from  proximity  to  pota- 
toes, though  it  should  be  said  that  Phil's  paring  would  have 
distressed  a  frugal  housekeeper. 

While  thus  employed  a  step  sounded  on  the  brick  walk, 
and  a  young  man  knocked  at  the  open  door  without  glanc- 
ing in.  He  chewed  a  straw  as  he  observed  the  chimneys  of 
the  adjoining  house,  and  Phil,  sitting  by  the  kitchen  table, 
paused  in  her  paring  to  make  sure  of  his  identity.  Then  she 
placed  her  pan  of  potatoes  on  the  table  and  crossed  quickly 
to  the  door. 

"Good-morning,  madam.  Would  you  like  — " 

He  extended  two  apples  as  samples.  Phil  glanced  at  them 
with  interest.  They  were  not  the  best  of  apples,  as  any  one 
could  see.  Fred  Holton  removed  his  hat  and  pulled  the  straw 
from  his  mouth. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Kirkwood,"  he  said,  with  a 
gravity  that  was  not  mitigated  by  a  slight  quivering  of  Phil's 
lips  as  she  continued  to  ignore  their  earlier  acquaintance. 
"  I  did  n't  know  this  was  your  house  or  I  should  n't  have 
come  in." 


62  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Then  it's  a  good  thing  you  didn't  know,"  replied  Phil. 
"If  you're  selling  apples  you  have  to  try  all  the  houses 
you  come  to.  Not  to  go  into  every  gate  would  n't  be  busi- 
ness." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that's  so,"  observed  Holton  doubtfully, 
letting  one  of  the  apples  fall.  Phil  picked  it  up  with  the 
quick  reach  of  a  shortstop.  She  ignored  his  apologies  for 
failing  to  recover  it  himself,  and  examined  the  apple  criti- 
cally. 

"If  you  have  n't  any  better  apples  in  your  wagon  than 
this,  you  're not  likely  to  sell  many,"  Phil  commented.  "This 
one 's  spotted  and  it 's  a  safe  guess  that  a  worm  nestles  within. 
You  ought  to  pick  out  the  best  for  samples." 

"They're  not  a  very  good  lot,"  confessed  Holton.  "It's 
an  old  orchard  and  it  has  n't  had  any  attention.  I  'm  going 
to  put  out  some  new  trees  next  year." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  Phil  observed  reflectively.  "I've 
noticed  that  they've  been  planting  pears  and  apples  in 
several  places  around  there.  Uncle  Amy  got  a  good  first  crop 
this  year  from  his  young  orchard.  But  he  had  a  man  spray 
the  bugs  off.  There  are  a  lot  of  things  to  do  to  an  orchard. 
The  land  Uncle  Amy  turned  into  an  orchard  runs  right  up  to 
your  place,  and  it  must  be  the  same  kind  of  land.  But  it 
is  n't  as  easy  as  it  looks  —  apples  is  n't." 

"Apples  is  n't?"  he  repeated  soberly. 

"Oh,  cheer  up,  that's  a  joke!   I  know  apples  aren't!" 

The  young  man  smiled. 

"  Mine  is  n't,  I  'm  afraid,  from  what  you  say  about  them." 

"I  think  maybe  that  speck  is  n't  a  wormhole,  after  all," 
said  Phil,  subjecting  the  apple  she  still  held  to  another  scru- 
tiny. "You  might  give  us  a  half  a  bushel  of  these.  My  ambi- 
tions lead  me  toward  apple  pie,  and  if  it  does  n't  come  out 
well  I  can  blame  your  apples." 

He  smiled  again,  and  frank  admiration  shone  in  his  eyes 
as  they  surveyed  Phil  with  more  assurance. 

"  If  you  really  want  some  of  these  I  '11  bring  them  in.«  Half 
a  bushel?" 


A  TRANSACTION  IN  APPLES  63 

' '  That  will  be  enough , ' '  replied  Phil  succinctly.  She  rubbed 
the  apple  with  the  corner  of  her  blue-and-white  apron,  chose 
a  spot  that  inspired  confidence,  and  bit  into  it.  She  waited 
for  the  effect  absently  and  puckered  her  lips.  "  It 's  a  cooker. 
What's  the  name  of  the  brand?" 

"Give  it  up." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you.  It's  a  'Liza  Browning.  You'd  better 
learn  the  names  of  apples  before  you  go  much  further  in 
the  business.  Any  farmhand  can  tell  you.  Uncle  Amy's 
taught  me  about  twenty.  What's  the  price  of  this  precious 
fruit?" 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  charge  you  for  these,  you  know.  You 
see  — ' ' 

"Then  I  won't  take  them  —  nary  an  apple!  You  bring 
in  those  apples  and  I  '11  pay  you  just  the  same  price  you  ask 
everybody  else." 

Her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  black  cat  moving  along 
the  alley  fence  with  noble  unconcern.  Phil  stepped  out  upon 
the  brick  walk,  drew  back  her  arm  and  threw  the  apple. 
It  struck  the  fence  immediately  beneath  the  cat,  which 
vanished  on  the  alley  side.  , 

"Good  shot.   You  almost  got  him !" 

"Almost  nothing!"  said  Phil  scornfully.  "You  didn't 
suppose  I  wanted  to  hit  the  wretch,  did  you?  He's  an  old 
pal  of  mine  and  would  be  lonesome  if  I  did  n't  scare  him 
to  death  occasionally." 

Holton  brought  the  apples  in  a  sack  which  he  emptied  into 
a  basket  Phil  found  for  the  purpose.  His  absence  had  been 
prolonged.  To  measure  half  a  bushel  of  apples  is  not  ordi- 
narily a  serious  matter,  but  in  this  instance  the  vendor  chose 
fastidiously.  The  fruit  that  went  into  the  sack  was  beyond 
question  the  best  in  the  wagon. 

"How  much?"  asked  Phil,  surveying  her  purchase, 
purse  in  hand. 

"Oh,  about  a  quarter." 

Shejhanded  him  a  fifty  cent  piece. 

"Please  don't  try  that  again  —  not  here!   I've  been  tel- 


64  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

phoning  the  grocery  and  apples  about  like  those  are  a  dollar 
a  bushel.  Good-morning!" 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Kirkwood." 

He  looked  at  her  intently,  laughed,  threw  the  sack  over  his 
shoulder  and  went  out,  holding  the  coin  in  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   OTHERWISENESS    OF    PHYLLIS 

HINT  to  those  who  read  with  an  eye  on  the  clock :  skip  this 
chapter!  It  is  made  up  from  notes  furnished  by  Mrs.  John 
Newman  King,  Judge  Walters,  Captain  Joshua  Wilson,  the 
veteran  recorder,  former-Sheriff  Whittlesey  and  others,  and 
is  included  merely  to  satisfy  those  citizens  of  Montgomery 
who  think  this  entire  history  should  be  devoted  to  Phil,  to 
the  exclusion  of  her  friends  and  relations.  The  historian 
hopes  he  is  an  open-minded  person,  and  he  would  rather 
please  Montgomery  than  any  other  center  of  thought  and 
industry  he  knows ;  but  the  laws  of  proportion  (as  Phil  would 
be  the  first  to  point  out)  may  not  lightly  be  ignored.  Phil's 
otherwiseness  was  always  difficult  to  keep  in  bounds ;  it  must 
not  tyrannize  these  pages.  Skip  and  carry  thirteen,  but 
don't  complain  if  pilgrims  from  Montgomery  take  you  to 
task  for  denying  Phil  five  minutes  of  your  time. 

Phil  was  on  her  way  to  Buckeye  Lane  the  first  cold  day  in 
November  to  call  on  the  daughter  of  a  newly  enrolled  mem- 
ber of  the  Madison  faculty  when  she  saw  her  Uncle  Amzi  on 
the  bank  steps  taking  the  air.  She  had  on  her  best  walking- 
suit,  and  swung  a  silver  cardcase  in  her  hand.  The  cardcase 
marked  an  advance.  Formal  calls  were  not  to  Phil's  taste, 
but  her  aunts  had  lately  been  endeavoring  to  persuade  her 
that  it  was  no  longer  seemly  for  her  to  "drop  in"  when  and 
where  she  pleased,  but  that  there  were  certain  calls  of  duty 
and  ceremony  which  required  her  best  togs  and  the  leaving  of 
circumspect  bits  of  cardboard  inscribed  "Miss  Kirkwood." 
When  Phil  set  forth  to  call  upon  a  girl  friend  it  was  still 
something  of  a  question  whether  caller  and  callee  would  sit 
in  the  parlor  and  be  ladies  or  seek  the  open  to  crack  walnuts 
on  the  kitchen  steps  or  slide  down  the  cellar  door. 


66  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

As  Phil  spied  her  uncle  she  stopped  abruptly,  feigned  to 
be  looking  at  the  sign  over  his  head,  and  when  his  glasses 
presently  focused  upon  her,  pretended  suddenly  to  be  intent 
upon  the  face  of  the  court-house  clock  two  blocks  distant. 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  is  this  a  bank?" 

Thus  accosted  Mr.  Montgomery  looked  upon  his  niece 
with  exaggerated  surprise. 

"A  bank,  little  girl?  What  on  earth  do  you  want  with  a 
bank?" 

"  I  thought  I  might  separate  it  from  some  of  its  cash;  or  if 
the  terms  are  satisfactory  I  might  leave  some  money.  If 
the  venerable  old  party  I  address  holds  a  job  inside  we  might 
withdraw  from  the  public  gaze  and  commune  within  the 
portals.  The  day  is  raw  and  that  ice-cream  suit  invites 
pneumonia." 

Passers-by  viewed  the  pair  with  an  amused  smile.  Cap- 
tain Wilson,  stumping  along  at  the  moment,  asked  without 
pausing:  — 

"Stranger  in  town,  Amzi?" 

"Yes,  Cap;  she's  just  bought  the  town  and  wants  the  key 
to  the  bank  vault." 

Phil  followed  her  uncle  into  the  bank  and  waited  for  him 
to  walk  round  behind  the  cages.  The  dingy  old  room  with  its 
walnut  counter  and  desks  seemed  at  once  a  brighter  place. 
The  four  clerks  made  it  convenient  to  expose  themselves 
to  Phil's  smile.  She  planted  herself  at  the  paying  teller's 
cage  and  waited  for  Amzi's  benevolent  countenance  to  ap- 
pear at  the  wicket.  She  held  up  her  cardcase  that  he  might 
have  the  full  benefit  of  her  splendor,  extracted  a  small  bit 
of  paper,  and  passed  it  in  to  him.  Seeing  that  it  was  not  one 
of  the  familiar  checks  of  the  Montgomery  Bank,  he  scruti- 
nized it  closely.  It  was  a  check  of  the  "Journey's  End" 
Magazine  Company  for  fifty  dollars,  drawn  upon  a  New 
York  bank  and  payable  to  Phyllis  Kirkwood. 

Amzi's  face  expressed  no  surprise.  He  threw  it  back  and 
waved  her  away. 

"It's  no  good.  Worthless!" 


THE  OTHERWISENESS  OF  PHYLLIS     67 

"No  good?  You  don't  mean  — " 

"  No  good,  Miss  Kirkwood  —  without  your  indorsement." 

"Why  did  n't  you  say  so!  I  don't  want  to  come  as  near 
sudden  death  as  that  again." 

He  thrust  out  a  pen  so  that  she  need  not  turn  to  the  tall 
desk  behind  her  to  make  the  indorsement.  He  examined  the 
signature  carefully  and  blotted  it. 

"One  of  your  own  efforts,  Phil?"  he  asked  carelessly. 

"Well,  yes,  you  might  say  so.  I  suppose  you'd  call  it 
that." 

"Poetry?" 

"A  poor  guess,  Amy,  and  marks  you  as  an  ignorant 
person.  Fifty  dollars  for  a  poem  out  of  my  green  little  canta- 
loupe? That's  half  what  Milton  got  for  'Paradise  Lost.' 
And  the  prices  have  n't  gone  up  much  since  John  died." 

She  knew  that  his  curiosity  was  aroused.  This  play  of 
indifference  was  an  old  game  of  theirs,  a  part  of  the  teasing 
to  which  she  subjected  him  and  which  he  encouraged. 

"Story?" 

"Absurd!  Everybody  in  this  town  is  writing  a  novel. 
Every  time  I  go  into  the  post-office  I  see  scared-looking 
people  getting  their  manuscripts  weighed,  and  nervously 
looking  round  for  fear  of  being  caught.  Nan  says  it 's  a  kind 
of  literary  measles  people  have  in  Indiana.  Aunt  Josephine's 
cook  writes  poetry  —  burnt  up  a  pan  of  biscuits  the  other 
day  when  she  was  trying  to  find  a  rhyme  for  '  Isaiah.' " 

"  I  wondered  what  caused  me  so  much  pain  the  last  time 
I  ate  supper  at  Josie's.  I  must  have  swallowed  a  sonnet. 
What's  your  line,  Phil?" 

"Zoology." 

"Possible?" 

"  It  was  this  way,  Amy.  You  know  that  piece  I  read  at  the 
high-school  commencement —  'The  Dogs  of  Main  Street '?" 

"  I  do,  Phil,  I  do;  I  nearly  laughed  myself  to  death." 

"  Well,  it  did  seem  to  tickle  the  folks.  I  was  about  to  kindle 
the  fire  with  it  one  day  when  I  happened  to  think  that  if  it 
would  make  a  high-school  commencement  laugh  it  ought  to 


68  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

raise  a  laugh  out  of  'most  anybody.  So  I  touched  it  up  and 
put  in  a  few  new  dogs  I  Ve  got  the  boys  in  Landers's  livery- 
stable  taking  care  of,  and  sent  it  to  three  magazines.  The 
first  two  regretted,  but  the  third  fell  for  it.  They  want  pic- 
tures of  the  dogs,  though,  and  will  give  me  twenty  more  round 
iron  dollars  for  a  full  set,  so  if  you  see  me  on  the  hike  with 
the  camera  in  the  morning,  don't  ring  up  the  town  marshal." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Amzi;  "it  sounds  like  easy  money. 
Going  to  keep  it  up?" 

"I  have  said  nothing,"  replied  Phil,  holding  up  her  card- 
case  and  swinging  it  by  its  short  chain.  "Just  credit  me  with 
the  fifty  and  I  '11  bring  in  my  book  the  next  time  I  find  it." 

In  front  of  the  theater  she  ran  into  her  Uncle  Lawrence, 
gloomily  posed  before  the  entrance  with  his  astrakhan  collar 
drawn  up  about  his  ears.  He  had  once  seen  Richard  Mans- 
field in  just  such  a  coat  and  had  been  moved  to  imitation. 

"Divinity!"  breathed  Hastings  tragically,  noting  Phil's 
glowing  cheeks  and  satisfying  raiment. 

"  Forget  it ! "  said  Phil.  "  How  about  a  box  for  the  Satur- 
day matinee?  I  think  I  '11  pull  off  a  party  for  a  bunch  of  girls 
at  your  expense.  What  is  that  on  the  boards?  You  don't 
mean  that  'Her  Long  Road  Home'  threatens  this  town 
again?  Why  rub  it  in,  Lawrmce?" 

"They've  canceled,"  said  Hastings  with  a  sigh.  "That 
booking-office  is  a  den  of  thieves.  No  honor,  no  feeling,  no 
ideals  of  art!" 

His  tones  were  unusually  abysmal.  He  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  door  of  his  theater  as  though  shielding  it  from 
Philistine  assaults  upon  the  drama's  divine  temple. 

"By  the  way,  Lawrence  —  '  Her  Aunt  Kate  had  rebuked 
her  at  least  a  thousand  times  for  calling  him  "Lawrence." 
He  had  asked  her  to  call  him  "  Uncle  Larry,"  which  was  her 
main  reason  for  not  doing  so.  Her  standard  of  uncles  was 
high.  She  had  never  admitted  her  aunts'  husbands  to  a  share 
in  a  relationship  that  was  ennobled  by  Amzi  Montgomery. 
Fosdick  was  usually  "Paul"  to  Phil;  Waterman  she  always 
called  "Judge,"  which  he  hated.  "Lawrtnce,  what  became 


THE  OTHERWISENESS  OF  PHYLLIS     69 

of  that  play  you  wrote  yourself  and  put  on  in  Chicago?  Why 
don't  you  bring  it  here  and  give  the  town  a  treat?" 

Hastings  bent  upon  her  the  grieved  look  of  a  man  who 
suffers  mutely  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all.  Et  tu,  Brute! 
was  in  his  reproachful  glance. 

"  I  did  n't  think  this  of  you,  Phil.  Of  course  you  knew  the 
piece  closed  Saturday  night  at  Peoria." 

She  had  not  known.  Her  aunt  had  spoken  largely  of  the 
venture.  The  theatrical  powers  of  New  York  having  frowned 
upon  Hastings's  play,  he  had  produced  it  himself,  sending  it 
forth  from  Chicago  to  enlighten  the  West  before  carrying 
it  to  Broadway,  there  to  put  to  rout  and  confusion  the  lords 
of  the  drama  who  had  rejected  it.  Five  thousand  dollars  had 
been  spent  and  the  play  had  failed  dismally.  Nor  was  this 
the  first  of  Hastings's  misadventures  of  the  same  sort.  Phil 
analyzed  her  uncle's  gloom  and  decided  that  it  was  sincere, 
and  she  was  sorry  for  him  as  was  her  way  in  the  presence  of 
affliction.  Hastings  was  an  absurd  person,  intent  upon  shin- 
ing in  a  sphere  to  which  the  gods  had  summoned  him  only 
in  mockery.  Phil  lingered  to  mitigate  his  grief  as  far  as 
possible. 

"  I  'm  sorry;  but  I  suppose  if  a  play  won't  go,  it  won't." 

"A  play  of  merit  won't!  My  aim  was  to  advance  the 
ideal  of  American  drama;  that  was  all.  The  same  money 
put  into  musical  comedy  would  have  nailed  S.  R.  O.  on  the 
door  all  winter." 

"Lawrence,"  said  Phil,  glancing  up  at  the  facade  of  The 
Hastings,  "  I  '11  tell  you  how  you  can  make  a  barrel  of  money 
out  of  this  brick  building." 

He  looked  at  her  guardedly.  Phil  was  a  digger  of  pits,  as 
he  knew  by  experience,  and  he  was  in  no  humor  for  trifling. 
His  own  balance  at  the  bank  was  negligible,  and  his  wife  had 
warned  him  that  no  more  money  would  be  forthcoming  for 
the  encouragement  of  the  American  drama. 

"Lawrince,  what  you  ought  to  do  is  to  hire  that  blind 
piano-pounder  who  thumps  for  the  fraternity  dances,  put  a 
neat  red-haired  girl  in  a  box  on  the  sidewalk,  get  one  of  the 


70  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

foot-ball  team  who's  working  his  way  through  college  to 
turn  the  crank,  and  put  on  a  fil-lum." 

This  was,  indeed,  rubbing  salt  in  his  wounds.  He  flinched 
at  the  thought. 

"Turn  my  house  over  to  the  'movies'!  Phil,  I  didn't 
think  this  of  you.  After  all  I  Ve  tried  to  do  to  lift  this  dingy 
village  to  a  realizing  sense  of  what  drama  is  —  what  it  should 
mean  — " 

"Trim  it,  Hector.  You  can  break  all  the  banks  in  town 
uplifting  the  drama  and  never  put  it  over.  About  once  a 
winter  you  have  a  good  piece;  the  rest  of  the  time  the  folks 
who  want  to  see  real  actors  go  to  Indianapolis  or  sneak  up  to 
•Chicago  for  a  week  and  beat  you  to  it.  That  fil-lum  show 
down  by  the  court-house  is  rotten.  Coarse  and  stupid.  Why 
not  spend  a  few  dollars  changing  the  front  of  this  joint  and 
put  on  good  pictures?  The  people  who  keep  the  pictures 
moving  in  Indianapolis  sit  around  the  fire  Sunday  evenings 
and  burn  money  —  it  comes  in  so  fast  the  banks  have  n't 
room  for  it.  Call  this  '  The  Home  Fireside '  —  no  nickelodeon 
business  —  and  get  the  Center  Church  quartette  to  sing.  It 
will  sound  just  like  prayer-meeting  to  people  who  think  a 
real  theater  a  sinful  place.  If  you  don't  tackle  it,  I  '11  throw 
Bernstein  out  and  take  it  up  myself.  There 's  a  new  man  in 
town  right  now  trying  to  locate  a  screen;  beat  him  to  the 
wire,  Lawrence." 

"By  Jove,  Phil—!" 

She  started  off  briskly  and  a  little  farther  on  met  Jack 
Whittlesey  the  sheriff,  who  grinned  and  touched  his  coon- 
skin  cap. 

"Got  an  engagement,  Phil?  Hope  not.  Uncle  Alec  is 
goin'  to  holler  in  a  few  minutes." 

"I'm  out  calling,  Sheriff,  but  if  you're  sure  the  judge  is 
going  to  act  up,  I  '11  take  a  look  in." 

She  crossed  the  street  to  the  court-house.  To  Phil  nothing 
was  funnier  than  Alec  Waterman  in  the  throes  of  oratory. 
Waterman  was  big  and  burly,  with  a  thunderous  voice ;  and 
when  he  addressed  a  jury  he  roared  and  shook  his  iron-gray 


THE  OTHERWISENESS  OF  PHYLLIS     71 

mane  in  a  manner  truly  terrifying.  In  warm  weather  when 
the  windows  were  open,  he  could  be  plainly  heard  in  any  part 
of  the  court-house  square.  When  Phil  reached  the  circuit 
court-room  Judge  Walters,  with  his  feet  on  the  judicial  desk, 
was  gazing  at  the  ceiling,  as  was  his  habit  when  trials  grew 
tedious.  As  Phil  entered,  he  jerked  down  his  feet,  sat  erect, 
snapped  his  fingers  at  the  bailiff,  and  directed  the  placing 
of  a  chair  within  the  space  set  apart  for  the  bar.  Phil  smiled 
her  thanks,  and  made  herself  comfortable  with  her  back  to 
the  clerk's  desk.  The  case  in  progress  was  a  suit  for  personal 
injuries  against  the  Sycamore  Traction  Company,  brought 
by  Waterman  for  a  farmer,  who,  on  the  preceding  Fourth 
of  July,  had  been  tossed  a  considerable  distance  toward 
Chicago  by  a  violent  contact  with  one  of  the  defendant's  cars. 
The  motorman  and  the  conductor  had  both  testified  that 
the  car  was  running  empty  and  that  the  proper  signals  had 
been  given  at  the  required  crossings. 

The  judge  left  the  bench  and  lounged  about  the  clerk's 
desk,  hoping  to  catch  Phil's  eye  and  draw  her  aside  for  one  of 
the  parleys  in  which  he  delighted ;  but  Phil  had  immediately 
become  absorbed  in  the  testimony.  Waterman's  voice  rose 
louder  and  louder  as  he  sought  to  befuddle  the  motorman 
as  to  the  time  of  the  accident,  the  place  where  the  collision 
occurred  and  the  signaling,  but  without  avail.  The  attorney 
for  the  company  looked  on  with  an  amused  smile  of  uncon- 
cern. Both  the  motorman  and  the  conductor  had  been  care- 
fully rehearsed  in  their  testimony  and  there  was  little  likeli- 
hood that  plaintiff's  counsel  would  be  able  to  trap  them. 
Waterman  was  going  back  and  forth  over  the  time  of  day, 
attempting  to  show  that  the  car  was  behind  its  schedule, 
and  exceeding  the  speed  limit,  but  the  man  clung  to  his  story 
stubbornly.  It  was  at  exactly  five  minutes  past  three;  he 
was  running  slowly,  and  had  whistled  at  all  the  earlier 
stops ;  and  when  he  saw  the  plaintiff  driving  upon  the  right  of 
way  ahead  of  him  he  put  on  the  brakes  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Phil  moved  to  a  chair  just  behind  Waterman.  He  was  so 
deeply  engrossed  that  he  did  not  notice  her.  He  was  making 


7*  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

no  headway,  and  was  about  to  drop  the  witness  when  Phil 
bent  over  and  whispered.  Without  turning  round  he  rose 
and  renewed  the  attack. 

"I  will  ask  you,  sir,  to  state  to  this  jury  whether  it  is 
not  a  fact  that  the  brake  of  your  car  was  out  of  order  and 
whether  it  had  not  given  you  trouble  before  you  struck  the 
plaintiff?" 

The  witness  stammered  and  glanced  at  counsel  for  the 
defendant,  who  rose  and  objected  to  the  question  as  not 
proper  cross-examination.  The  judge  returned  to  the  bench 
with  renewed  interest  and  overruled  the  objection.  The 
witness  admitted  that  there  had  been  some  slight  trouble 
with  the  brake,  and  Waterman  roared  another  question  that 
drowned  the  explanation. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  fact  that  you  ran  past  Stop  7  just  south  of  the 
scene  of  this  collision,  and  did  not  stop  your  car  because  it 
was  out  of  control  by  reason  of  a  crippled  brake?  " 

The  witness  was  plainly  disturbed,  and  the  defendant's 
counsel  was  unable  to  protect  him.  He  admitted  that  the 
brake  might  not  have  been  in  perfect  order,  but  it  was  an 
old  car  — 

"It  was  an  old  car,"  boomed  Waterman,  "and  the  brake 
was  worn  out  and  you  could  n't  have  stopped  at  that  cross- 
ing even  if  you  had  wanted  to!  Isn't  that  the  fact?" 

The  motorman  telegraphed  appealingly  to  the  company's 
lawyer.  The  judge  ordered  him  to  answer  the  question. 

"There  were  no  passengers  on  the  car,"  the  man,  now 
thoroughly  confused,  murmured  inconsequently. 

Waterman  bent  his  head  and  took  another  cue  from  Phil, 
then  strode  majestically  toward  the  witness. 

"There  were  no  passengers  on  your  car?  Why  not?"  he 
thundered. 

"  Why  not  what?  "  faltered  the  witness. 

"  I  ask  you,  sir,  if  it  isn't  true  that  there  was  a  passenger 
waiting  at  Stop  7  and  that  you  ran  by  that  crossing  because 
your  brake  would  n't  work?" 

The  witness  looked  at  Phil  and  involved  himself  in  dim- 


THE  OTHERWISENESS  OF  PHYLLIS     73 

culty  by  admitting  that  the  car's  speed  was  such  that  he  was 
unable  to  see  clearly  whether  any  passenger  was  waiting  at 
Stop  7.  After  sparring  between  counsel,  Phil  was  placed 
upon  the  stand  and  sworn  to  tell  the  whole  truth.  Main 
Street  had  heard  that  something  unusual  was  happening  in 
the  circuit  court  and  the  room  filled. 

Her  name,  she  testified,  was  Phil  Kirkwood.  (She  always 
signed  herself  Phil  at  school,  distrusting  Phyllis  as  high- 
falutin'.) 

"  Otherwise  Phyllis,"  interposed  the  judge  soberly.  "  It  is 
essential  that  the  record  identify  all  witnesses  beyond  per- 
ad  venture." 

The  audience  tittered.  Phil  began  her  story.  She  had 
been  spending  the  Fourth  of  July  at  her  Uncle  Amzi's  farm, 
but  wanted  to  return  home  before  her  uncle  was  ready,  to 
attend  a  party.  There  was  no  question  of  the  time,  as  she 
had  walked  across  the  fields  to  that  particular  stop  to  meet 
the  car  on  its  scheduled  hour.  She  had  stood  upon  the  track 
and  waved  the  flag  placed  in  the  shed  at  the  stop  for  that 
purpose,  but  to  her  disgust  the  car  had  rushed  by  at  full  speed. 
She  had  heard  the  hissing  of  the  air  as  the  car  whirled  by, 
and  there  being  no  other  car  for  an  hour  she  had  been  obliged 
to  return  to  the  farm  and  wait  for  her  uncle  to  drive  her  in. 

Counsel  for  defendant,  a  stranger  to  the  ways  of  Mont- 
gomery, who  had  come  from  Indianapolis  to  try  the  case, 
asked  Phil  ironically  if  she  were  an  expert  in  the  manage- 
ment of  a  trolley  car. 

"Oh,  I  should  n't  say  that,"  said  Phil;  "  but  I  used  to  ride 
with  motormen  sometimes,  back  and  forth  to  the  farm,  and 
they  let  me  stop  and  start  the  car." 

She  explained  that  she  knew  from  the  sound  as  the  air 
went  on  that  the  brake  was  out  of  order.  The  twelve  good 
men  and  true  in  the  jury  box  bent  forward  attentively  as  she 
met  the  lawyer's  questions.  He  was  a  young  man  and  Phil 
was  undeniably  pretty.  In  her  calling  clothes  she  did  not 
look  like  a  girl  who  would  chum  with  motormen.  His  man- 
ner was  elaborately  deferential. 


74  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Miss  Kirkwood,  may  I  trouble  you  to  tell  the  jury 
whether  you  ever  rode  in  the  car  of  this  particular  motor- 
man?"  he  asked. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Phil. 

"You  never  saw  him  before,  and  after  all  you're  not  sure 
he's  the  man  who  was  in  charge  of  that  car  that  day,  are 
you?" 

Phil  dangled  the  cardcase  from  her  white-gloved  fingers 
carelessly. 

"Perfectly  confident  of  it,"  she  answered. 

"If  you  are  sure  of  it,  will  you  kindly  tell  the  jury  just 
how  it  is  you  remember  him  —  how  you  identify  him  as  the 
motorman  on  this  car  on  that  particular  afternoon?" 

"Oh!   Do  you  really  want  me  to  tell  that?"  asked  Phil. 

"Answer  the  question!"  the  attorney  returned  sharply, 
misreading  her  apparent  reluctance. 

"Why,"  began  Phil,  speaking  rapidly  and  distinctly  and 
turning  toward  the  jurors, — "why,  it 's  because  I  had  noticed 
him  all  that  summer  passing  our  house  and  he  always  ran 
faster  than  the  other  motormen, — you  could  tell  his  car  at 
night  if  you  did  n't  see  it  because  it  ran  so  fast,  —  and  he's 
the  same  man  who  ran  into  Bernstein's  delivery  wagon  — 
the  one  with  the  lame  horse — at  the  corner  of  Monon  Street 
about  a  week  before  the  Fourth  of  July.  I  saw  that,  too!" 

"If  Your  Honor  please,"  said  Waterman,  rising  as  the 
court  ruled  that  Phil's  last  answer,  which  the  defendant's 
counsel  had  sought  vainly  to  interrupt,  should  be  stricken 
out,  "the  plaintiff  rests.  We  will  waive  argument  in  this 
case,"  he  added  impressively,  putting  from  him,  with  unpre- 
cedented self-denial,  the  chance  of  pillorying  the  unfeeling 
defendant  corporation. 

Judge  Walters  looked  down  at  Phil  solemnly. 

"The  court  is  unable  to  determine  whether  the  witness  is 
also  associate  counsel  for  plaintiff,  but  in  any  event,  I  suggest 
that  she  claim  the  usual  witness  fee  at  the  clerk's  office." 

Phil  left  the  court-room  and  resumed  her  walk  toward 
Buckeye  Lane. 


THE  OTHERWISENESS  OF  PHYLLIS     75 

Paul  Fosdick,  just  coming  down  from  his  office,  arrested 
her.  Fosdick,  whose  blithe  spirit  was  never  greatly  dis- 
turbed by  the  failure  of  his  enterprises,  greeted  Phil  gayly. 
He  entertained  a  high  opinion  of  Phil.  At  family  gatherings, 
which  his  wife  and  sisters-in-law  made  odious  by  petty  bick- 
erings, Phil  was  always  a  refuge.  It  was  nothing  to  Phil 
which  of  her  aunts  wore  the  best  hat,  or  that  Mrs.  Hastings 
had  been  abroad  and  to  New  York  while  the  others  had  been 
denied  these  recreations  and  delights.  If  his  wife's  faith  in 
him  had  been  shaken  by  his  inability  to  grasp  the  fortune 
which  always  seemed  just  within  reach;  and  if,  on  Christ- 
mas and  New  Year's  and  Thanksgiving  Day,  when  they  met 
at  Amzi's,  he  was  a  bit  uncomfortable,  knowing  that  his  wife's 
share  of  the  Montgomery  money  had  gone  into  many  ven- 
tures without  ever  coming  out  again,  Phil  could  be  de- 
pended upon  to  infuse  cheer  into  those  somber  occasions. 
He  frequently  discussed  his  schemes  with  Phil,  who  was 
usually  sympathetic;  and  now  and  then  she  made  a  sug- 
gestion that  was  really  worth  considering.  Where  other 
members  of  the  family  criticized  him  harshly  behind  his 
back,  Phil  delivered  her  criticisms  face  to  face. 

"'Lo,  Phil!" 

"'Lo,  Paul!" 

"Phil,  what's  new  about  Sycamore  Traction?  They  say 
your  pa 's  going  to  have  a  receiver  appointed." 

"  If  he  does  they  will  print  it  in  the  papers.  How  do  you 
like  my  hat?" 

"It's  a  dream,  but  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  make 
trouble  for  your  dear  aunts'  husbands  by  going  in  for 
clothes.  The  competition  in  the  family  is  hot  enough  now 
without  you  butting  in.  Hastings  is  in  mourning  at  the 
bank  and  Waterman  is  sad  over  his  last  political  licking 
and  my  billions  are  coming  by  slow  freight." 

"By  the  way,  Paul,  I  fell  over  that  busted  brickyard  of 
yours  out  by  the  flour  mill  the  other  day  when  I  was  walk- 
ing for  my  health.  There  ought  to  be  money  in  bricks,"  she 
ended  meditatively. 


76  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"There  ought,  Phil,  but  there  ain't.  I'm  still  hoping  to 
pull  that  scheme  out,  but  it  takes  time.  You  know  this  town 
does  n't  know  how  to  back  up  its  enterprises." 

"  Cease  knocking!  What  you  want  to  do  is  to  stop  trying 
to  organize  an  undertakers'  trust  in  this  town  where  every- 
body lives  to  a  green  old  age  and  get  busy  with  brick.  The 
last  time  I  was  in  Indianapolis  I  saw  a  lot  of  new  houses  built 
out  of  brick  that  looked  just  about  like  those  pink-and- 
yellow  effects  you  started  in  on.  They  came  from  over  in 
Illinois  somewhere,  and  I  guess  the  clay 's  off  the  very  same 
stratum.  What  you  ought  to  do  is  to  nail  close  to  some 
of  the  city  architects  and  hypnotize  them  into  using  your 
goods." 

"We  tried  all  that,  Phil;  but  they  would  n't  listen." 

"Let  me  see;  what  name  did  you  give  those  bricks?" 

"We  called  'em  the  'Gold  Finish.'  Nothing  the  matter 
with  that,  is  there?" 

"'Most  everything's  the  matter  with  that  name.  Any- 
thing that  suggests  a  gold  brick  is  bound  to  scare  sensible 
people.  Think  of  living  in  a  house  that  people  would  laugh 
at  and  call  the  '  gold-brick '  house !  You  Ve  got  to  get  a  lot 
better,  Paul.  Try  once  more  and  call  'em  the  '  Daffodil '  or 
the  '  Crocus '  —  something  that  sounds  springlike  and  cheer- 
ful. And  play  up  local  pride — a  Hoosier  product  for  Hoosier 
people.  Then  when  you've  done  that,  fly  to  Chicago  and 
give  away  enough  to  build  a  house  in  one  of  the  new  suburbs 
and  daffodils  will  spring  up  all  over  the  prairie.  Am  I  lucid  ?  " 

"There  may  be  something  in  giving  an  old  dog  a  new 
name.  I  Ve  a  good  notion  to  give  it  a  try,  and  if  — " 

"Oh,  there 's  no  charge !  You  might  send  me  up  a  couple  of 
those  brick;  I  can  use  'em  for  nut-crackers." 

Judge  Walters  once  said  of  Phil  that  if  she  would  keep  a 
diary  and  write  down  honestly  everything  that  happened  to 
her  it  would  some  day  put  Pepys  to  the  blush.  Not  every 
day  was  as  rich  in  adventure  as  this;  but  this  is  not  a  bad 
sample.  If  Phil  had  been  a  prig  or  fresh  or  impertinent,  she 
would  not  have  been  the  idol  of  Main  Street.  A  genius  for 


THE  OTHERWISENESS  OF  PHYLLIS     77 

being  on  the  spot  when  events  are  forward  must  be  born  in 
one,  and  her  casual,  indifferent  air  contributed  to  a  belief 
in  Main  Street  that  she  was  leagued  with  supernatural 
agencies.  If  there  was  a  fire,  Phil  arrived  ahead  of  the 
department;  and  if  a  prisoner  broke  out  of  jail,  Phil  knew  it 
before  the  "Evening  Star"  could  print  the  fact. 

"Some  one  told  me,"  Captain  Wilson  would  begin, 
addressing  Judge  Walters;  and  the  judge  would  answer, 
"Otherwise  Phyllis."  And  the  judge  would  say,  "  I  'm  going 
to  quit  taking  the  'Star'  and  subscribe  for  Phil." 

Phil  had,  on  the  whole,  a  pretty  good  time. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   SMOKING-OUT   OF  AMZI 

ALTHOUGH  a  Holton  had  brought  scandal  upon  the  house 
of  Montgomery  by  eloping  with  one  of  its  duly  married 
daughters,  or  perhaps  because  of  that  disagreeable  circum- 
stance, Mrs.  Hastings,  Mrs.  Fosdick,  and  Mrs.  Waterman 
were  constantly  exercised  over  the  affairs  of  the  Holtons. 
The  Holtons  prospered,  as  witness  the  fashion  in  which 
William  (the  wicked  Jack's  brother)  had  built  up  the  First 
National  Bank  after  the  dissolution  of  the  old  Montgomery 
&  Holton  partnership.  And  there  was  Samuel,  who  had 
varied  his  political  activities  by  organizing  companies  to 
raise  vanilla  beans  or  sarsaparilla,  or  to  dig  silver  in  Mexico 
—  a  man  of  affairs,  unquestionably,  who  had  outgrown 
Montgomery  and  moved  to  the  state  capital  where  he  died. 
Even  Samuel's  paltry  achievements  were  touched  with  a 
certain  magnificence  in  the  eyes  of  these  ladies;  Samuel 
had  escaped  from  Montgomery  and  this  was  a  consumma- 
tion that  had  long  been  the  burden  of  their  prayers.  The 
very  existence  of  the  First  National  Bank  was  offensive  to 
the  sisters  of  Amzi  Montgomery.  They  had  wanted  Amzi 
to  "nationalize"  his  bank  when  the  break  occurred  and  it 
had  been  "just  like"  their  stubborn  brother  to  continue  in 
the  old  rut. 

Mrs.  William  Holton  lived  in  a  modern  house  that  was 
superior  to  anything  the  Montgomerys  could  boast.  It  had 
two  bathrooms,  a  music-room,  and  electric  lights.  In  Mont- 
gomery one  bathroom  had  long  been  a  summit-crowning 
achievement,  to  which  the  fortunate  possessor  might  point 
with  pride ;  and  as  for  dedicating  a  room  to  music,  and  plant- 
ing in  it  a  grand  piano  flanked  by  a  bust  of  Mozart,  and  shed- 
ding upon  it  a  dim  opalescent  glow  from  concealed  lights 


THE  SMOKING-OUT  OF  AMZI  79 

—  no  one  in  the  community  had  ever  before  scaled  such 
heights  of  grandeur. 

For  half  a  dozen  years  after  their  sister's  escapade  the 
Montgomery  sisters  had  not  spoken  to  a  Holton;  but  in 
such  communities  as  theirs  the  "cutting"  of  persons  with 
whom  one  has  been  brought  up  is  attended  with  embarrass- 
ments. William  Holton  had  married,  a  little  late,  a  Memphis 
woman  he  had  met  on  a  trip  to  Mexico  to  inspect  the  plan- 
tations in  which  he  and  his  brother  Samuel  were  interested. 
She  was  "a  Southern  woman,"  with  a  charming  accent, 
as  every  one  admitted.  The  accent  was  greatly  admired. 
Several  young  girls  sought  to  soften  the  vowels  of  their  native 
Hoosier  speech  in  conformity  with  the  models  introduced  by 
Mrs.  Holton.  The  coming  of  this  lady,  the  zest  with  which 
she  entered  into  the  social  life  of  the  town,  the  vacillations  of 
certain  old  friends  of  the  Montgomerys  who  had  taken  sides 
against  the  Holtons  after  the  Kirkwood  incident,  had  given 
the  three  sisters  an  excuse  for  abandoning  the  feud  in  so  far 
at  least  as  it  applied  to  William  Holton.  In  any  view  of  the 
case,  no  matter  how  base  the  Holtons  might  be,  there  was 
no  reason  why  the  family  sins  should  be  visited  upon  the 
lady  with  the  aforesaid  accent,  whose  taste  in  dress  was 
unassailable  and  who  poured  tea  with  such  an  air. 

Amzi  read  his  newspaper  in  the  little  back  room  of  the 
bank  on  a  November  afternoon  and  awaited  the  coming  of 
his  sisters.  The  necessity  for  any  business  discussions  be- 
tween them  had  steadily  diminished.  Their  father's  estate 
had  long  ago  been  distributed,  and  Amzi  had  not  troubled 
himself  as  to  the  subsequent  fate  of  the  money  he  had  paid  to 
his  sisters.  They  were  all  blessed  with  husbands,  and  if 
these  gentlemen  did  not  safeguard  their  wives'  property  it 
was  no  affair  of  his.  There  had  been  about  half  a  million 
dollars,  which  meant  in  round  figures  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  apiece,  and  this  in  Montgomery  is  a  great  deal  of 
money. 

When  his  sisters  arrived,  Amzi  rose  with  the  nice  courtesy 
that  lay  in  him  and  placed  chairs  for  them  about  the  table. 


8o  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Then  panting  from  his  exertion  he  pulled  a  cigar  from  his 
waistcoat  and  dry-smoked  it.  They  were  unwontedly 
grave,  suggesting  the  gloom  of  a  committee  appointed  to 
perfect  funeral  arrangements  for  a  poor  relation. 

"You  have  talked  to  Phil  about  the  party,  I  suppose," 
said  Mrs.  Waterman. 

"I  have:  I  most  certainly  have,  Josie,"  replied  Amzi, 
sighing  heavily. 

"  And  she's  going  to  do  what  we  want?" 

Amzi  tilted  his  head  to  one  side  reflectively,  and  took 
the  cigar  from  his  mouth. 

"She's  going  to  stand  for  the  party,  if  that's  what  you 
mean ;  but  as  to  doing  what  you  want  on  general  principles, 
I'm  not  so  dead  sure." 

"  It  was  your  duty,  Amzi,  to  go  into  the  matter  thoroughly 
—  to  lay  down  the  law  to  her,"  observed  Mrs.  Fosdick. 

"All  right,"  nodded  Amzi.  "In  the  words  of  the  poet,  I 
done  it.  But  Phil  does  n't  need  lectures." 

"Doesn't  need  them?"  sniffed  Mrs.  Fosdick.  "That 
poor  child  could  n't  have  a  lecture  too  many.  She  always 
pulls  the  wool  over  your  eyes.  It 's  right  and  proper  for  us 
to  know  just  what  she  said  when  you  told  her  she  had  to  stop 
running  round  so  much  and  act  like  a  respectable  well- 
brought-up  girl." 

"You're  a  lot  of  silly  geese  about  Phil  —  all  of  you," 
declared  Amzi,  bringing  his  gaze  to  bear  upon  them  seriatim. 
"Phil  is  far  from  being  a  fool,  and  there's  a  heart  in  her 
as  big  as  the  court-house.  We  don't  appreciate  her;  we're 
always  nagging  her  and  trying  to  reform  her." 

The  plural  was  pure  chivalry.  It  was  not  Amzi  who 
nagged  Phil.  The  aunts,  perfectly  aware  of  this,  and  ready 
usually  to  challenge  any  intimation  that  their  attitude 
toward  Phil  was  not  dictated  by  equity  and  wisdom,  were 
silent.  Their  failure  to  respond  with  their  customary  defense 
aroused  his  suspicions.  They  had  been  to  a  tea  somewhere 
and  were  in  their  new  fall  togs.  Their  zealous  attempts  to 
live  up  to  what  were  to  him  the  absurdest,  the  most  prepos- 


THE  SMOKING-OUT  OF  AMZI  81 

terous  ideals,  struck  him  just  now  as  pathetic;  but  he  was 
fond  of  his  sisters.  If  the  course  of  their  lives  was  inexpli- 
cable and  their  ambitions  ridiculous  and  futile,  his  good  hu- 
mor never  failed  in  his  intercourse  with  them.  But  they  had 
not  disclosed  their  hand  on  this  occasion — he  was  confident 
of  this  —  and  he  warily  fortified  himself  to  meet  whatever 
assault  their  strategy  had  planned.  The  three  women 
glanced  at  one  another  covertly :  Kate  and  Fanny  seemed  to 
be  deferring  to  their  older  sister.  It  was  with  unmistakable 
diffidence  and  after  a  minute  scrutiny  of  her  cardcase  that 
Mrs.  Waterman  spoke. 

"Amzi,  this  is  an  important  time  in  Phil's  life,  and  there 
are  some  things  we  ought  to  counsel  each  other  about.  We 
all  take  it  for  granted  that  you  know  where  Lois  is." 

Amzi  crossed  his  fat  legs  and  shrugged  his  fat  shoulders. 
He  was  not  in  the  least  pleased  by  the  direction  of  the  in- 
quiry. 

"We  feel  we  are  entitled  to  know  all  you  know  about  her," 
added  Mrs.  Fosdick. 

"You  should  remember,"  said  Mrs.  Hastings,  "that  she's 
our  sister  as  well  as  yours." 

Amzi's  jaws  tightened  and  he  inspected  the  end  of  his 
cigar.  This  sudden  manifestation  of  sisterly  interest  in  Lois 
was  not  without  its  amusing  side.  They  had  long  ago  spurned 
their  sister  with  bitterness,  and  his  speculations  as  to  the  real 
object  of  their  visit  had  not  touched  the  remote  horizons 
against  which  Lois  was  vaguely  limned. 

"I  don't  see,"  he  observed  deliberately,  "that  Lois  has 
anything  whatever  to  do  with  Phil  or  any  of  the  rest  of  us." 

"Of  course  not,  Amzi.  That 's  exactly  the  point.  We  only 
want  to  be  sure  she 's  a  long  way  off ;  we  're  entitled  to  know 
that.  And  we've  heard  — " 

Mrs.  Hastings  laid  upon  heard  that  fine,  insinuating 
inflection  that  is  a  part  of  the  grammar  of  gossip.  His  sisters 
had  heard  something,  and  while  he  discounted  its  value 
automatically,  as  was  his  way,  he  was  not  without  curiosity 
as  to  its  nature.  They  saw  that  he  was  interested. 


82  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"The  Walters  have  just  got  back  from  a  Western  trip, 
and  they  heard  in  Seattle  that  Lois  has  left  Holton.  He  had 
been  doing  badly  —  drinking,  and  all  that." 

"  It  was  bound  to  come,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Waterman. 
"You  can't  tell  me  that  people  who  do  a  thing  like  that  can 
ever  be  happy." 

Her  tone  did  not  please  Amzi.  It  was  clear  that  he  found 
the  whole  subject  disagreeable.  He  was  immensely  annoyed 
that  they  had  come  to  him  to  discuss  Lois  after  years  of 
silence.  It  was  as  though  a  great  rock  planted  in  the  avenue 
of  her  exit  had  succumbed  to  the  tooth  of  Time  and  its 
exfoliations  were  falling  ominously  about  him. 

"  I  thought  it  was  understood  long  ago  that  we  had 
dropped  Lois.  If  she  and  Holton  got  tired  of  each  other,  it 's 
their  business.  I  don't  imagine  you  want  me  to  send  for  her 
to  come  home." 

"Amzi!"  they  gasped. 

It  seemed  that  this  shuddering  exclamation  expressed  a 
horror  that  shook  their  very  souls.  It  was  incredible  that 
so  dark  a  thought  should  have  crossed  the  mind  of  a  man 
commonly  looked  upon  as  sane. 

"That  would  be  the  limit,"  cried  Mrs.  Hastings.  "  Don't 
even  mention  such  a  thing  —  it's  too  horrible  to  joke  about." 

" I  was  n't  joking.  If  she's  gone  to  smash  with  Holton,  I 
thought  maybe  you  wanted  us  to  bring  the  prodigal  home, 
and  give  her  veal  loaf  for  Sunday  evening  tea.  By  the  way, 
Kate,  don't  ever  turn  me  loose  on  any  of  your  veal  loaf 
again.  The  last  I  had  at  your  house  gave  me  indigestion ;  it 
might  have  led  to  apoplexy  and  killed  me." 

The  fierceness  of  his  frowning  caused  his  scalp  to  wrinkle 
clear  back  to  his  fringe  of  hair.  His  sisters  were  vexed  by  his 
attempt  to  relieve  the  discussion  with  humor.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  sober  him,  and  Mrs.  Hastings  thought  she  could 
effect  the  sobering  of  Amzi. 

"Minnie  Walters  says  they  have  lost  their  money;  the 
judge  saw  Jack  Holton,  but  you  know  how  the  judge  is;  he 
would  n't  ever  speak  of  it  to  a  soul." 


THE  SMOKING-OUT  OF  AMZI  83 

"Minnie  would,"  said  Amzi  dryly. 

"  Minnie  only  mentioned  it  in  the  kindest  way,"  said  Mrs. 
Waterman,  coloring.  "You  know  Minnie  doesn't  gossip; 
but  as  an  old  friend  of  our  family  she  thought  we  ought  to 
know.  I  think  it  was  kind  of  her  to  tell  us." 

"Well,  it  does  n't  seem  to  have  made  you  girls  much  hap- 
pier. What  on  earth  are  you  going  to  do;  what  do  you  want 
me  to  do?  "  he  demanded,  blowing  out  his  cheeks  and  glaring. 

"We  don't  want  you  to  do  anything,  Amzi,"  said  Mrs. 
Hastings,  with  that  sweetness  with  which  women  of  little 
discernment  attempt  to  blunt  the  wrath  of  man. 

It  was  important  to  keep  Phil  in  the  picture:  with  Phil 
dancing  before  them  Amzi  could  be  held  in  subjection.  Mrs. 
Waterman  hastened  to  mention  Phil  and  the  responsibility 
they  all  felt  about  her,  to  justify  their  curiosity  as  to  Phil's 
mother.  Amzi  blew  his  nose  and  readjusted  his  spectacles. 
Mrs.  Waterman  advanced  the  battle-line  boldly. 

"We  assume  that  you  have  always  kept  in  touch  with 
poor  Lois  and  that  you  still  hear  from  her.  And  we  feel  that 
the  time  has  come  for  you  to  treat  us  more  frankly  about  her. 
It's  for  Phil's  sake,  you  know,  Amzi." 

Amzi  could  not  see  how  any  of  the  later  transactions  in 
the  life  of  Phil's  mother  were  of  the  slightest  importance  to 
Phil.  He  shook  his  head  impatiently  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"Lois,"  he  blurted,  "is  in  Dresden." 

"Then  she  has  left  him!"  cried  Mrs.  Fosdick,  with  a  note 
of  triumph  that  trumpeted  the  complete  vindication  of  Mrs. 
Waterman's  averments. 

"  I  tell  you  I  don't  know  anything  about  Holton,"  replied 
Amzi,  who  had,  in  strictest  truth,  told  them  nothing  of  the 
kind.  He  experienced  the  instant  regret  suffered  by  secretive 
persons  who  watch  a  long-guarded  fact  slip  away  beyond 
reclamation;  but  repentance  could  avail  nothing,  so  he 
added, — 

"Yes ;  she 's  abroad.  She 's  been  over  there  for  some  time." 

"Of  course,  he's  run  through  her  money;  that  was  to  be 


84  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

expected!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fosdick  in  a  tone  that  implied  a 
deep  resentment  of  the  fate  that  had  robbed  the  erring  Lois 
of  her  money. 

"If  he  did  she  never  told  me  so,"  Amzi  answered.  "But 
Lois  was  never  what  you  might  call  a  squealer ;  if  he  robbed 
her  you  can  be  pretty  dead  sure  she  would  n't  sob  about  it 
on  the  street  corners.  That  would  n't  be  a  bit  like  the  Lois 
I  remember.  Lois  was  n't  the  woman  to  go  scampering  off 
after  the  Devil  and  then  get  scared  and  burst  out  crying 
when  she  found  her  shoes  beginning  to  get  hot." 

After  all  these  years  Amzi  had  spoken,  and  his  sisters  did 
not  like  his  tone.  Their  brother,  a  gentleman  the  correctness 
of  whose  life  had  never  been  questioned,  was  referring  to  the 
conduct  of  the  sister  who  had  disgraced  her  family  in  out- 
rageous and  sinful  terms.  The  Prince  of  Darkness  and  the  fer- 
vid pavements  of  his  kingdom  were  not  to  be  brought  into 
conversation  with  any  such  lightness,  as  though  the  going  to 
the  Devil  were  not,  after  all,  so  horrible  —  not  something  to  be 
whispered  with  terror  in  the  dark  confessional  of  their  souls. 
One  might  have  imagined  that  Lois's  very  sins  had  endeared 
her  to  this  phlegmatic  older  brother!  There  was  not  only 
this  gloomy  reflection,  but  his  admissions  had  opened  long 
vistas  to  their  imaginations.  He  probably  knew  more  than 
he  meant  to  disclose,  and  this  made  it  necessary  to  continue 
their  pumping  with  the  greatest  discretion. 

"It  would  be  hard  if  she  came  back  on  you  for  help  — 
after  everything  that 's  happened ;  but  of  course  that  would 
be  your  affair,  Amzi,"  said  Mrs.  Hastings  leadingly. 

"  It  would,"  Amzi  admitted  explosively.  "  It  undoubtedly 
would!" 

This,  in  their  eagerness,  seemed  an  admission.  The  inter- 
view was  proving  fruitful  beyond  their  fondest  hopes.  He 
had  doubtless  been  in  Lois's  fullest  confidence  from  the  first ; 
and  darkest  of  all,  it  was  wholly  likely,  now  that  she  had 
broken  with  Holton,  that  Amzi  was  supplying  her  with  the 
means  of  subsistence  in  the  capitals  of  Europe.  Around  this 
last  thought  they  rallied. 


THE  SMOKING-OUT  OF  AMZI  85 

"Of  course,  if  Lois  should  really  be  in  need,  Amzi,"  said 
Mrs.  Waterman,  "it  would  be  the  duty  of  all  of  us  to  help 
her;  that  would  only  be  right.  But  even  if  it  comes  to  that 
we  should  have  to  consider  Phil,  too.  When  you  think  of 
everything,  our  responsibility  is  much  greater  for  Phil  than 
for  Lois.  Phil  is  here;  her  life's  before  her;  she's  one  of  us, 
you  know,  Amzi." 

"Right,  Josie;  you  are  mighty  right.  What  you  mean  is 
that  if  it  came  to  a  question  of  Lois's  starving  in  Europe 
and  Phil's  starving  on  our  doorsteps,  we'd  help  Phil  first 
because  she 's  right  here  under  our  noses.  But  I  don't  under- 
stand that  Lois  is  starving;  nor  is  Phil  for  that  matter. 
Phil's  all  right." 

The  thought  that  he  was  sending  money  to  Lois  was  dis- 
agreeable ;  that  he  should  be  doing  so  when  Phil's  needs  cried 
so  stridently  aroused  the  direst  apprehensions.  They  had 
all  received  from  Amzi  their  exact  proportion  of  their  father's 
estate;  even  Waterman  had  never  been  able  to  find  a  flaw 
in  the  adjustment.  Through  Waterman  they  had  learned 
that  Lois's  proper  receipt  was  on  file;  they  knew  exactly  the 
date  on  which  it  had  been  placed  of  record  in  the  county 
clerk's  office.  They  had  looked  upon  this  as  the  final  closing 
of  all  the  doors  that  shut  this  sister  out  of  their  calculations. 
They,  or  their  children,  were  potential  beneficiaries  in  Amzi's 
property  if  he  ultimately  died  a  bachelor.  And  there  was 
no  telling  when  his  asthma  might  be  supplemented  by  a  fatal 
pneumonia.  This  was  never  to  be  whispered  in  so  far  as  the 
chances  of  their  own  offspring  were  concerned;  but  of  Phil 
and  the  propriety  of  her  expectations  they  might  speak  with 
entire  candor. 

"  While  we  are  talking  of  these  matters,"  observed  Mrs. 
Hastings,  "we  may  as  well  face  one  or  two  things  that  have 
troubled  us  all  a  good  deal.  You  know  as  well  as  we  do  that 
poor  Tom  has  gradually  been  playing  out;  it's  pitiful  the 
way  he  has  been  letting  his  business  go.  Every  one  knows 
that  he  has  ability,  but  he 's  been  living  more  and  more  up  in 
the  air.  He  owns  the  block  over  there  and  the  rent  he  gets 


86  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

from  that  is  about  all  he  has.  And  I  should  n't  be  at  all  sur- 
prised if  the  block  had  been  mortgaged." 

"I've  heard,"  said  Mrs.  Waterman,  examining  a  button 
on  her  white  glove,  "that  he  has  borrowed  money  on  it." 

They  looked  guardedly  at  Amzi.  Mrs.  Waterman's  hus- 
band, who  kept  an  eye  on  the  county  records,  had,  at  his 
wife's  behest,  assured  himself  frequently  that  Kirk'wood's 
block  in  Main  Street  was  unencumbered.  Kirkwood's  for- 
mer home,  the  decaying  monument  to  his  domestic  tragedy, 
and  the  only  other  thing  he  owned,  was  free  also.  In  this 
process  of  "smoking  out "  their  brother  it  would  have  helped 
if  they  could  have  pointed  to  the  menace  of  her  father's 
encumbered  property  to  Phil ;  but  they  had  already  learned 
more  than  they  had  expected  in  establishing  beyond  perad- 
venture  the  fact  that  Lois  and  Amzi  maintained  communi- 
cation, and  that  in  all  likelihood  he  was  providing  for  her  in 
her  exile.  It  was  high  time  they  scanned  the  top  shelves  of 
the  closet  occupied  by  the  dancing  family  skeleton! 

"  While  we  're  about  it  we  may  as  well  face  the  possibility 
that  Tom  may  marry  again,"  remarked  Mrs.  Fosdick  sud- 
denly. 

Amzi  drew  his  hand  across  his  pink  dome. 

"Nothing  to  hinder  him  that  I  know  of,"  he  replied. 

"  I  don't  know  of  anything  that  would  wake  him  up  unless 
it  would  be  that.  The  right  sort  of  woman  could  do  a  lot  for 
a  man  like  Tom,  with  all  that  he  has  suffered."  This  from 
Mrs.  Waterman,  who  seemed  deeply  moved  by  the  thought 
of  Kirkwood's  sufferings. 

"  But  Phil  —  I  can't  imagine  Phil  with  a  stepmother.  We 
never  could  allow  that;  we  should  have  to  take  her  away 
from  him,"  declared  Mrs.  Fosdick. 

Amzi  rested  his  elbow  on  the  table,  and  breathed  hard  for 
a  minute.  He  took  the  unlighted  cigar  from  his  mouth  and 
waved  it  at  them. 

"What's  got  into  you  girls  anyhow!  You're  borrowing 
trouble  in  all  the  banks  in  the  universe  —  a  little  above  your 
line  of  credit.  You  seem  terribly  anxious  about  Lois  all  of  a 


THE  SMOKING-OUT  OF  AMZI  87 

sudden.  It  just  happens  that  I  know  she  ain't  hungry,  and 
that  she's  over  there  living  like  a  respectable  woman.  Lois 
isn't  like  the  rest  of  us;  Lois  is  different!  There's  more 
electricity  in  Lois  than  the  rest  of  us  have;  you  know  it  as 
well  as  I  do.  Now  just  to  satisfy  your  curiosity  I  '11  tell  you 
that  I  saw  Lois  — " 

"You  saw  her!"  they  chorused. 

"  I  saw  her  in  Chicago  about  two  months  ago.  She  was  on 
her  way  to  Europe  then ;  I  had  dinner  with  her  and  put  her 
on  the  train  for  New  York,  and  she  sailed  the  day  she  got 
there ;  so  now,  if  you  're  scared  to  death  for  fear  she 's  going 
to  turn  up  here  in  town,  you  can  put  it  clean  out  of  your 
minds." 

They  sighed  their  relief.  He  was  not  given  to  long  speeches 
and  the  effort  of  his  recent  deliverances  caused  him  to  cough, 
and  the  coughing  brought  his  voice  finally  to  a  high  wheeze. 
He  had  not  quite  finished  yet,  however. 

"  Now,  as  for  Tom  Kirkwood  marrying,"  he  went  on,  "let 
him  marry.  It 's  none. of  our  business,  is  it?  He  married  into 
our  family  and  got  the  worst  of  it.  It  was  n't  a  particularly 
cheerful  business,  the  way  it  came  out.  If  he 's  fool  enough 
to  try>it  again,  it's  his  trouble  not  ours;  and  you  can't  tell 
but  he  might  make  a  go  of  it  next  time." 

"We  have  no  idea  of  trying  to  hinder  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Waterman  with  dignity.  "As  you  say,  it's  Tom's  trouble. 
And  of  course  we  could  manage  so  Phil  would  n't  suffer,  no 
matter  what  he  did." 

"Phil  suffer!  Thunder!  What  are  you  always  talking 
about  Phil  for ;  I  tell  you  Phil 's  all  right !  Phil 's  got  more 
gumption  than  all  the  rest  of  us  put  together.  Phil 's  an 
honor  to  the  family ;  she 's  the  best  girl  in  this  town  and  the 
best  girl  in  the  whole  state  of  Indiana,  or  the  United  States, 
for  that  matter.  If  you  have  visions  of  seeing  Phil  chased 
over  the  back  lot  by  any  stepmother,  you  have  another  guess 
coming.  Thunder!" 

He  drew  out  a  white  silk  handkerchief  and  blew  his  nose. 
The  sisters  saw  with  regret  that  there  was  no  recurring  to 


88  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

the  attractive  subject  of  that  interview  in  Chicago,  though 
their  minds  were  beset  with  a  thousand  questions  they 
wished  to  ask  him  about  it.  They  realized  that  to  do  so 
would  be  a  blunder.  They  had  stumbled  upon  a  gold  mine 
and  were  obliged  to  leave  its  rich  hoard  untouched.  They 
returned  to  Phil,  who,  as  a  topic,  offered  safer  ground  than 
her  mother. 

"Phil's  party,"  said  Mrs.  Hastings  briskly,  "ought  to  be 
in  keeping  with  the  family  dignity.  We  thought  it  a  lot 
better  for  you  to  have  it  in  your  house  than  for  us  —  our  own 
houses  are  small."  (This  with  resignation.)  "And  it  does  n't 
seem  quite  nice  for  us  to  have  it  in  the  Masonic  Hall,  though 
some  of  the  nicest  people  are  doing  that.  To  bring  Phil  out 
in  her  grandfather's  house  speaks  for  the  whole  family.  And 
it's  dear  of  you  to  consent  to  it.  We  all  appreciate  that, 
Amzi." 

"Of  course  it's  the  place  for  it!"  affirmed  Amzi  impa- 
tiently. "  I'll  give  that  party  and  you  can  get  whatever  Phil 
needs  and  do  it  right ;  you  understand?  And  then  I  want  you 
to  give  me  all  the  bills.  Now  what  else  do  you  want?" 

"We  feel,"  began  Mrs.  Fosdick,  "that  the  invitations, 
which  will  go  out  in  your  name,  should  take  in  everybody 
we  want  Phil  to  know." 

Amzi  grinned  guardedly. 

"That's  pretty  good,  Fanny.  Do  you  suppose  there's  a 
man,  woman,  baby,  or  yellow  dog  in  this  town  that  Phil 
does  n't  know?  I  doubt  it.  But  go  on." 

"We  don't  mean  that  way,  Amzi,"  said  Mrs.  Waterman 
patiently.  "We  mean — " 

"Thunder!  Goon!" 

"We  mean  that  the  list  should  be  representative  —  that 
old  differences  should  be  put  aside." 

The  wrinkles  on  Amzi's  pink  pate  scampered  back  to  find 
refuge  in  his  absurd  fringe  of  pale-gold  hair.  Mrs.  Waterman 
advanced  her  pickets  hurriedly. 

"You  know  we've  had  to  recognize  the  Holtons  of  late, 
disagreeable  though  it  has  been.  William  is  n't  like  Jack — 


THE  SMOKING-OUT  OF  AMZI  89 

you  know  that ;  and  when  he  brought  his  wife  here,  a  perfect 
stranger,  it  did  n't  seem  fair  to  ignore  her." 

"The  fact  is,"  Mrs.  Fosdick  interpolated,  "we  simply 
couldn't,  Amzi.  This  town's  too  small  to  carry  on  a  feud 
comfortably.  We  all  stopped  speaking  to  the  Holtons  after 
poor  Lois  left,  but  the  rest  of  them  could  n't  help  what  Jack 
did;  and,  of  course,  Lois — " 

"You  want  to  ask  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  to  Phil's  party?" 

Mrs.  Fosdick,  fearing  from  the  fierceness  with  which  he 
reduced  the  matter  to  words,  that  he  was  about  to  veto  the 
suggestion,  hastened  to  strengthen  their  case. 

"For  business  reasons,  Amzi,  we  feel  that  we  ought  to 
bury  the  hatchet.  Paul  has  to  meet  William  Holton  con- 
stantly. No  matter  what  we  think,  William  is  really  one  of 
the  wide-awake  business  men  of  the  town,  and  in  all  sorts 
of  things ;  and  Paul  has  to  keep  him  on  the  executive  com- 
mittee of  the  Commercial  Club  —  the  president  of  the  First 
National  Bank  can't  be  overlooked,  though  you  can't  ever 
doubt  Paul's  devotion  to  all  our  interests." 

"And,"  Mrs.  Waterman  added,  "Mr.  Holton  retained 
Alec  in  a  case  last  winter." 

"  Yep,"  observed  Amzi,  "he  did.  It  was  that  suit  about 
opening  up  Chapel  Street  and  I  was  one  of  the  defendants." 
And  then  he  added,  with  calculated  softness,  as  though  re- 
calling a  pleasant  memory,  "Alec  lost  the  suit." 

The  mention  of  the  Chapel  Street  Extension  had  been  an 
unfortunate  slip  on  Mrs.  Waterman's  part;  but  Amzi  was 
generous. 

"Bill  Holton  is  undoubtedly  a  leading  citizen,"  he  ob- 
served, looking  at  the  ceiling  and  rubbing  his  nose  absently. 
The  irony  of  this,  if  he  intended  any,  was  well  hidden.  Wil- 
liam Holton,  president  of  the  First  National  Bank,  was  a 
business  rival,  and  Amzi  never  abused  his  competitors. 
Having  satisfied  his  curiosity  as  to  the  ceiling,  he  announced 
his  complete  acquiescence  in  the  idea  of  inviting  the  William 
Holtons.  "No  objection  whatever,"  he  declared,  "to  ask- 
ing Bill  and  his  wife.  Is  that  all  of  'em  you  want?" 


90  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Well,  there  are  Ethel  and  Charlie.  They've  just  closed 
their  house  here  and  mean  to  live  in  Indianapolis,  but  of 
course  they  still  belong  here.  Charlie  is  doing  very  well, 
they  say  —  quite  a  brilliant  young  man ;  and  Ethel  is  very 
sweet  and  well-bred.  She  went  to  Miss  Waring's  school  in 
Indianapolis  and  knows  some  of  the  nicest  young  people 
in  the  city.  I  think  it  would  be  nice  to  ask  them;  it  always 
looks  well  to  have  some  out-of-town  guests." 

"That  Sam's  children  you're  talking  about?  What's  the 
matter  with  the  other  boy?" 

"  Fred?  I  think  the  less  we  say  about  him  the  better.  He 's 
been  down  in  Mexico  on  one  of  Sam's  schemes  and  I  guess  he 
did  n't  do  well.  He 's  on  the  old  farm  next  your  place.  I  guess 
Ethel  and  Charlie  can  represent  that  branch  of  the  family. 
If  you  think — "  began  Mrs.  Fosdick,  anxious  that  Amzi 
should  be  fully  satisfied. 

"  Thunder !  I  don't  think.  You  fix  it  up  to  suit  yourselves." 

They  began  to  adjust  their  wraps,  fairly  well  satisfied  with 
the  results  of  the  visit.  Amzi  eyed  their  autumnal  splen- 
dors with  the  mild  wonder  a  woman's  raiment  always  aroused 
in  him. 

"Tom  marry  again,  you  say,"  he  observed  pensively. 
"What's  put  that  idea  in  your  head?" 

"Why,  you  know  as  well  as  we  do,  Amzi,  that  he  and  Rose 
Bartlett  are  very  sympathetic,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hastings, 
veiling  a  sharp  glance  at  him.  The  three  women,  feigning 
inattention,  were  alert  for  their  brother's  reply.  It  came 
promptly. 

"  Rose  is  a  fine  woman,"  he  said  with  cordial  emphasis.  "A 
fine  woman.  And,"  he  immediately  added,  "so's  Nan.!" 

Then  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his  coat  pockets  and  filled 
his  cheeks  and  glared. 

They  were  grieved  by  the  mention  of  Nan.  The  bluff 
heartiness  with  which  he  had  expressed  his  admiration  for 
Rose  had  been  gratifying  and  satisfying;  but  by  speaking 
with  equal  fervor  of  Nan  he  had  sent  them  adrift  again. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GHOSTS   SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN 

KIRKWOOD  plunged  into  work  with  an  ardor  that  was 
not  lost  upon  Phil.  He  rose  early  and  kept  office  hours  with  a 
new  faithfulness,  and  he  frequently  carried  books  and  papers 
home  for  study.  Something  was  impending,  Phil  surmised, 
in  the  affairs  of  the  Sycamore  Traction  Company,  for  he  had 
been  to  Indianapolis  to  confer  with  the  New  York  lawyer 
who  represented  the  trustee  for  the  bondholders  and  they 
had  made  an  inspection  of  the  road  together.  It  had  always 
been  Kirkwood's  way  when  aroused  to  devote  himself  tire- 
lessly to  his  client's  business,  and  Phil  had  not  failed  to  note 
how  completely  labor  transformed  him.  His  languor  and 
indifference  now  disappeared ;  he  spoke  feelingly  of  the  gen- 
erosity of  his  Williams  classmate,  who  had  placed  the  Syca- 
more case  in  his  hands.  It  was  a  great  opportunity  and  he 
assured  her  that  he  meant  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

He  warned  her  that  she  was  not  to  tell  any  one  what  he 
was  engaged  upon,  and  that  she  must  not  be  surprised  into 
confessions  by  her  aunts.  He  began  to  visit  the  capital, 
always  returning  on  the  evening  train,  though  she  knew 
that  he  might  more  comfortably  have  spent  the  night  in 
the  city.  He  explained  to  Phil  that  he  hoped  to  adjust  the 
Sycamore's  affairs  without  litigation. 

"  I  'm  just  enough  of  an  old  fogy  to  cut  myself  out  of  a  big 
fee  by  smoothing  the  wrinkles  without  a  lawsuit.  It's  the 
professor  in  me,  Phil;  it's  the  academic  taint." 

And  to  this  the  obvious  retort  was,  of  course,  that  it  was 
because  of  his  highmindedness  that  he  sought  peaceable 
adjustments  where  more  drastic  measures  would  have  been 
to  his  profit. 

She,  too,  was  putting  forth  her  best  energies,  and  he  was 


9*  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

relieved  to  find  that  she  disposed  of  her  work  so  lightly ;  even 
her  frequent  calamities  were  a  matter  for  jesting.  They  made 
a  joke  of  the  washing  of  the  supper  dishes:  he  insisted  on 
helping  her,  and  would  don  an  apron  and  do  the  rougher 
part  of  it.  He  declared  that  he  had  never  been  so  well  fed 
before,  and  that  her  cooking  showed  real  genius.  It  would 
be  a  dark  day  when  his  fee  in  the  traction  case  would  make 
it  possible  to  install  a  new  maid-of-all  work. 

Phil  was  aware  that  their  talk  drifted  often  and  with 
seeming  inevitableness  to  the  Bartletts.  Her  successes  with 
the  housekeeping  were  due  to  the  friendly  supervision  of 
the  sisters  in  Buckeye  Lane.  He  liked  to  hear  her  recount 
the  ways  in  which  they  were  her  guide  and  inspiration.  In 
doubts  she  flew  to  them ;  but  one  or  the  other  appeared  almost 
daily  at  the  cottage.  "  Rose  showed  me  how  to  make  that 
sponge  cake,"  Phil  would  say;  or,  if  the  furniture  in  their 
little  parlor  had  been  rearranged,  it  was  very  likely  Nan 
who  had  suggested  the  change.  It  was  a  considerable  dis- 
tance across  town  from  the  Kirkwoods'  to  Number  98  Buck- 
eye Lane,  and  as  these  women  were  exceedingly  busy  it  was 
not  without  sacrifice  that  they  visited  Phil  so  constantly. 
"Nan  read  me  some  new  jokes  she's  just  sending  off  this 
morning:  I  wonder  how  people  think  up  such  things,"  Phil 
would  observe,  turning,  perhaps,  with  her  hand  on  the  pan- 
try door ;  and  she  knew  that  her  father's  face  lighted  at  the 
mention  of  Nan  and  her  jokes. 

The  aunts  had  not  been  above  planting  in  Phil's  young 
breast  the  suspicion  that  her  father  was  romantically  "  inter- 
ested "  in  one  of  the  Bartletts  —  as  to  which  one  they  hoped 
she  would  enlighten  them.  They  tried  to  keep  track  of  the 
visits  paid  by  the  father  and  daughter  to  Buckeye  Lane; 
their  veiled  inquiries  were  tinged  also  with  suspicions  that 
Amzi  might  be  contemplating  marriage  with  one  of  these 
maiden  ladies  of  the  Lane  —  the  uncertainties  in  each  case 
as  to  the  bright  star  of  particular  adoration  giving  edge  to 
their  curiosity.  The  cautious  approaches,  the  traps  set  in 
unexpected  places,  amused  Phil  when  she  was  not  angered 


GHOSTS  SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN        93 

by  them.  As  she  viewed  the  matter  it  would  be  perfectly 
natural  for  her  father  to  marry  either  of  the  Bartlett  sisters, 
her  only  fear  being  that  marriage  would  disturb  the  existing 
relations  between  the  two  houses  which  were  now  so  wholly 
satisfactory. 

Phil  managed  to  visit  her  father's  office  every  day  or  two, 
trips  to  "town"  being  among  the  Montgomery  housewife's 
privileges,  a  part  of  her  routine.  Much  visiting  was  done  in 
Main  Street,  and  there  was  always  something  to  take  one 
into  Struby's  drug-store,  which  served  as  a  club.  Even  in 
winter  there  was  hot  chocolate  and  bouillon  to  justify  the 
sociably  inclined  in  lingering  at  the  soda-water  tables  by  the 
front  windows.  Phil,  heedful  of  the  warnings  of  the  court- 
house clock,  managed  to  keep  in  touch  with  current  history 
without  jeopardizing  the  regularity  of  meals  at  home.  She 
was  acquiring  the  ease  of  the  Bartletts  in  maintaining  a 
household  with  a  minimum  of  labor  and  worry.  Her  aunts 
had  convoyed  her  to  Indianapolis  to  buy  a  gown  for  the 
coming-out  party,  which  was  now  fixed  for  the  middle  of  No- 
vember ;  and  they  were  to  return  to  the  city  shortly  for  a 
fitting.  All  Main  Street  was  aware  that  Phil  was  to  be 
brought  out ;  the  aunts  had  given  wide  publicity  to  the  mat- 
ter ;  they  had  sighingly  confessed  to  their  friends  the  diffi- 
culties, the  labor,  the  embarrassment  of  planting  their  niece 
firmly  in  society. 

Phil,  dropping  into  her  father's  office  in  the  middle  of 
an  afternoon  and  finding  him  absent,  dusted  it  from  force 
of  habit  and  began  turning  the  pages  of  a  battered  copy  of 
"Elia"  she  kept  tucked  away  in  an  alcove  that  contained 
the  Indiana  Reports.  A  sign  pinned  on  the  door  stated  that 
her  father  would  return  in  half  an  hour.  This  card,  which 
had  adorned  the  door  persistently  for  several  years,  had 
lately  ceased  to  prophesy  falsely,  Phil  knew,  and  she  thought 
she  heard  her  father  on  the  stairs  when  a  young  man  she  did 
not  at  once  recognize  opened  the  door  and  glanced  about, 
then  removed  his  hat  and  asked  if  Mr.  Kirkwood  would 
return  shortly. 


94  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"I'm  Mr.  Charles  Holton,"  said  the  visitor. 

For  a  man  to  prefix  "mister"  to  his  own  name  was  con- 
trary to  local  usage,  and  the  manner,  the  voice,  the  city 
clothes  of  Charles  Holton  at  once  interested  Phil.  She  was 
sitting  in  her  father's  old  swivel  chair,  well  drawn  in  under 
his  big  flat-top  desk,  across  which  she  surveyed  the  visitor 
at  leisure.  She  placed  him  at  once  in  his  proper  niche  among 
the  Holtons:  it  was  of  him  that  people  were  speaking  as  a 
Montgomery  boy  who  was  making  himself  known  at  the 
capital.  He  was  the  brother  of  Ethel  and  Fred,  and  clearly 
an  alert  and  dashing  person. 

"  Pardon  me;  but  I  remember  you  perfectly,  Miss  Kirk- 
wood.  I  hope  we  may  dispense  with  the  formality  of  an  in- 
troduction —  we  old  Montgomery  people  —  and  that  sort 
of  thing!" 

Holton  carried  a  stick,  which  was  not  done  in  Mont- 
gomery save  by  elderly  men,  or  incumbents  of  office,  like 
Judge  Walters  or  Congressman  Reynolds.  His  necktie  also 
suggested  more  opulent  avenues  than  Main  Street. 

"  By  the  outward  and  visible  sign  upon  the  portal  I  as- 
sume that  Mr.  Kirkwood  will  return  shortly." 

He  referred  to  his  watch,  absently  turned  the  stem-key, 
and  sat  down  in  one  of  the  chairs  which  Phil  had  lately 
dusted. 

"  I  used  to  see  you  around  a  lot  when  I  was  a  boy  —  you 
and  your  pony;  but  we've  all  been  away  so  much  —  my 
sister  Ethel  and  I.  You  know  Ethel?" 

"  I  Ve  seen  her,"  said  Phil. 

"  We  Ve  just  been  breaking  up  our  old  home  here.  Rather 
tough,  too,  when  you  think  we're  quite  alone.  We've  sold 
the  old  house ;  sorry,  but  the  best  offer  I  got  was  from  a  doc- 
tor who  wants  to  turn  it  into  a  drink-cure  sanatorium.  Tough 
on  the  neighbors,  but  there  you  are !  It  did  n't  seem  square 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  bracing  up  booze  victims." 

He  expected  her  approval  of  this  attitude;  and  Phil  mur- 
mured phrases  that  seemed  to  fill  the  gap  he  left  for  them. 

"Had  to  go  to  the  highest  bidder  —  you  can  hardly  give 


GHOSTS  SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN        95 

away  an  old  house  like  that  in  a  place  like  this.  Neighbors 
are  kicking,  but  it  was  n't  my  fault." 

Phil  said  she  supposed  that  was  so. 

She  was  still  noting  various  small  items  of  Holton's  rai- 
ment —  his  tan  oxford  shoes,  brilliant  socks,  and  brown 
derby.  A  brown  derby  seemed  odd  in  Montgomery.  From 
the  pocket  of  his  sackcoat  protruded  the  cuffs  of  tan  gloves, 
and  he  wore  an  inconspicuous  watch  chain  passed  from 
pocket  to  pocket  of  his  waistcoat.  Not  even  the  most  pros- 
perous of  the  college  seniors  had  ever  presented  to  Phil's  eye 
a  variety  of  adornments  so  tastefully  chosen,  a  color  scheme 
so  effective.  The  interview  seemed  to  be  to  the  young 
man's  liking.  He  talked  with  assurance,  holding  his  light 
stick  with  one  hand,  and  balancing  his  hat  on  his  knee  with 
the  other.  Often  before  men  had  come  into  the  office  as  Phil 
sat  there  and  she  had  conversed  with  them  while  they 
waited  for  her  father.  She  had  usually  exhausted  the  pos- 
sibilities in  forecasting  her  father's  return  at  such  times;  but 
this  gentleman  seemed  in  no  wise  impatient.  He  spoke  of 
the  world's  affairs  lightly  and  with  a  flattering  confidence  in 
the  understanding  and  sympathy  of  his  auditor.  The  theat- 
rical attractions  at  the  capital,  the  promise  of  grand  opera 
in  Chicago,  the  political  changes,  these  were  things  of  pass- 
ing interest,  but  nothing  to  grow  feverish  about. 

"The  new  trolley  line  will  make  a  lot  of  difference  to  towns 
like  Montgomery  —  revolutionize  things  in  fact.  Part  of 
the  great  social  change  that  is  apparent  all  over  the  Middle 
West.  There  won't  be  any  country  folks  any  more;  all 
hitched  on  to  the  cities  —  the  rubes  derubenized  and  inter- 
urbanized!" 

Phil  admitted  that  the  changes  he  suggested  were  of  sig- 
nificance. Her  father  often  used  similar  phrases  in  speaking 
of  tendencies  and  influences;  but  it  was  to  be  expected  of 
him.  The  same  ideas  as  expressed  by  Charles  Holton  derived 
a  certain  importance  from  the  fact  that  he  condescended  to 
utter  them;  they  gained  weight  and  authority  from  his 
manner  of  presenting  them.  He  was  not  only  a  man  of  the 


96  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

world,  but  an  acute  observer  of  social  phenomena;  and  he 
was  a  new  sort.  She  had  not  known  any  one  like  him.  The 
memory  of  her  two  meetings  with  Fred  came  back  to  her: 
she  recalled  them  the  more  clearly  by  reason  of  the  contrast 
between  the  brothers. 

"Your  brother  has  moved  back  to  the  farm,"  she  sug- 
gested to  gain  confirmation  of  a  relationship  which  seemed 
hardly  plausible  with  this  radiant  young  person  before  her. 

"Oh,  Fred !  Well,  I  'd  have  you  know  that  I  offered  to  take 
Fred  in  with  me,  but  he  would  n't  see  it.  I  'd  like  the  folks 
over  here  to  know  that;  but  I  couldn't  do  anything  with 
him.  He  camped  on  one  of  our  Mexican  mines  so  long  that 
he  is  afraid  of  cities,  —  is  n't  city-broke,  —  and  seemed 
relieved  when  I  suggested  that  he  take  the  farm.  It's  no 
great  shakes  of  a  farm  as  farms  go,  but  he's  one  of  these 
plodding  chaps  who  like  a  hard  job.  He  came  back  and  took 
a  look  around  and  said  it  was  back  to  the  soil  for  him!  So 
there  was  the  farm,  just  waiting  for  somebody  to  tackle  it. 
I  have  n't  seen  him  for  some  time,  —  I'm  terribly  busy,  — 
but  I  dare  say  he's  out  there,  an  earnest  young  husband- 
man anxious  to  become  one  of  these  prosperous  farmers 
who  push  the  price  of  bread  out  of  sight  and  cry  to  have 
the  tariff  taken  off  champagne.  You  don't  happen  to  know 
Fred?" 

"  I  've  met  your  brother,"  said  Phil  with  reserve. 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  Montgomery  folks  are  all  acquainted 
without  being  introduced.  Lots  of  'em  moving  to  Indianapo- 
lis ;  I  'm  thinking  of  organizing  a  club  over  there  to  keep  the 
Montgomery  people  together  —  an  annual  dinner,  say;  and 
that  sort  of  thing.  Do  you  know,  it 's  rather  nice  of  you  to 
be  talking  to  me  in  this  friendly,  neighborly  way ;  it  really 
is." 

As  Phil  seemed  not  to  see  at  once  wherein  the  particular 
kindness  of  it  lay,  he  smiled  and  continued :  — 

"Our  families  have  n't  been  so  friendly,  you  know.  Par- 
don me!" 

Phil,  seeing  now  what  he  meant,  colored  deeply,  and  glanc- 


GHOSTS  SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN        97 

ing  out  of  the  window  was  rewarded  by  a  glimpse  of  Amzi's 
back.  He  had  just  concluded  an  observation  and  was  turn- 
ing into  the  bank. 

"You  will  pardon  me,  won't  you,"  pleaded  young  Holton, 
lowering  his  voice. 

"I  think  father  will  be  here  shortly,"  Phil  remarked 
irrelevantly. 

He  had  opened  himself  to  the  suspicion  that  he  had 
broached  the  subject  of  the  antipathy  between  their  houses 
merely  to  test  its  dramatic  value.  To  be  talking  to  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  woman  with  whom  his  uncle  had  eloped  made  a 
situation;  it  is  possible  that  he  liked  situations  that  called 
into  action  his  wits  and  an  evident  gift  for  using  his  voice 
and  eyes.  He  had  been  rapidly  noting  Phil's  good  points.  He 
wished  to  impress  her,  and  he  was  not  convinced  that  the 
impression  he  had  made  was  favorable  or  that  she  forgave 
him  for  touching,  however  lightly,  upon  the  ungrateful  topic 
of  her  mother's  dereliction.  He  had  never  thought  of  his 
Uncle  Jack's  escapade  with  Mrs.  Kirkwood  concretely;  it 
had  happened  long  ago,  before  he  became  attentive  to  such 
things;  but  the  young  woman  with  whom  he  was  now  con- 
versing visualized  the  episode  for  him.  In  his  mind  there  was 
an  element  of  picturesqueness  in  that  joint  page  of  Holton- 
Montgomery  history.  He  wondered  whether  Phil  looked 
like  her  mother.  Phil  was  pretty  enough,  though  in  repose 
she  seemed  rather  spiritless.  She  was  swinging  herself  in  the 
swivel  chair,  carelessly,  and  since  his  reference  to  the  old 
scandal  he  saw  or  imagined  that  he  saw  her  manner  change 
from  courteous  interest  to  a  somewhat  frosty  indifference. 
His  pride  was  pricked  by  the  sense  of  his  blunder.  He  flat- 
tered himself  that  in  his  intercourse  with  men  and  women  he 
was  adroit  in  retrieving  errors,  and  his  instinct  warned  him 
that  the  curtain  must  not  fall  upon  a  scene  that  left  him  in 
discomfiture  at  the  back  of  the  stage. 

"It  pleased  Ethel  and  me  very  much  to  have  an  invita- 
tion to  your  party,  Miss  Kirkwood.  It  was  nice  of  you  to  ask 
us,  and  we  shall  certainly  come  over,  even  if  I  have  to  give 


98  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

up  a  trip  to  New  York  I  had  expected  to  make  at  just  that 
time.  Let  me  see,  it's  the  twentieth,  is  n't  it?  Well,  I  guess  I 
can  make  them  wait  down  there.  We  Western  folks  don't 
often  get  a  chance  to  make  New  Yorkers  wait." 

Phil  was  disposed  to  be  magnanimous.  He  undoubtedly 
wished  to  be  agreeable;  and  it  was  his  uncle,  a  remote  person 
whom  she  had  never  seen,  who  had  decamped  with  her 
mother.  It  was  hardly  just  to  hold  him  accountable  for  his 
uncle's  misdeeds.  She  wondered  whether  the  uncle  had 
been  like  this  nephew,  or  whether  he  was  more  like  William 
Holton,  whom  she  had  seen  frequently  all  her  life.  In  her 
encounters  with  Fred  Holton,  she  had  only  vaguely  asso- 
ciated him  with  that  other  and  indubitably  wicked  Holton 
who  had  eloped  with  her  mother. 

She  was  conscious  that  some  one  was  stirring  in  the  room 
overhead,  and  she  became  attentive  to  the  sounds.  Her 
father  had  asked  delay  in  disposing  of  the  apparatus  of  the 
old  photograph  gallery;  he  had  wanted  to  look  the  old  stuff 
over,  he  had  said,  and  he  wished  also  to  utilize  the  dark- 
room in  developing  the  pictures  he  had  taken  on  their  last 
outing.  One  of  the  objects  of  her  call  this  afternoon  had  been 
to  urge  him  to  haste,  as  Bernstein  wanted  to  move  his 
remodeling  shop  into  the  rooms  at  once. 

"  I  make  it  a  rule  of  my  life,"  Holton  went  on,  "to  duck 
when  it  comes  to  other  people's  mistakes.  I  make  enough 
of  my  own  without  shouldering  those  my  friends  and  rela- 
tions are  responsible  for  —  particularly  my  relations.  For 
example,  if  dear  old  Fred  wants  to  throw  himself  away  on  a 
farm,  that's  his  trouble.  I  did  all  I  could  to  save  him.  And 
when  I  had  done  that,  I  had  done  my  best,  and  I'm  a  busy 
man  with  troubles  of  my  own!" 

Her  reception  of  this  was  not  wholly  satisfactory.  She 
made  in  fact  no  reply  at  all. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  said,  hearing  steps  unmistakably;  "I 
think  maybe  father  is  on  the  floor  above.  If  you  will  wait 
here,  I  '11  run  up  and  see." 

He  saw  her  erect  for  the  first  time  as  she  passed  him.  Her 


GHOSTS  SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN        99 

apparent  languor  as  she  swung  in  the  old  creaky  chair  had 
belied  what  was  evidently  her  more  natural  manner.  The 
few  steps  necessary  to  carry  her  from  the  desk  to  the  door 
were  taken  lightly,  with  a  long,  free  stride.  Captain  Wilson, 
in  apostrophizing  her  as  the  Diana  of  Main  Street,  had  paid 
no  inappropriate  tribute  to  Phil's  graceful  carriage.  Holton 
rose  as  she  crossed  the  room,  noting  her  brown  cheek,  the 
golden  glint  in  her  hair,  her  finely  modeled  features,  her 
clear  brown  eyes  and  their  dark  lashes.  His  eyes  still  rested 
upon  the  door  for  a  moment  after  it  had  closed  upon  her. 
Then  he  struck  the  floor  with  his  stick,  and  whistled  softly. 
"Lordy!"  he  ejaculated. 

Phil  accused  herself  of  dullness  in  not  having  thought 
earlier  of  the  photograph  gallery.  Her  father  must  have  been 
conducting  himself  very  quietly  there  or  she  would  have 
heard  him  before.  It  had  been  a  bright  day  and  he  had 
undoubtedly  been  taking  advantage  of  the  sun  to  do  his 
printing.  She  had  always  encouraged  his  experiments  in 
photography,  which  afforded  him  one  of  his  few  recreations. 
He  owned  a  fine  camera  and  he  gave  to  every  detail  of  the 
photographer's  art  the  care  he  bestowed  upon  anything  that 
deeply  interested  him.  They  had  bound  in  portfolios  many 
of  the  views  obtained  in  their  adventures  afield,  and  he  had 
won  prizes  at  state  and  national  exhibitions  of  camera  soci- 
eties. Phil  was  relieved  to  know  that  he  was  developing 
these  newest  plates,  for  now  there  would  be  no  excuse  for 
retaining  the  deserted  gallery  and  it  could  be  turned  over  to 
Bernstein  without  further  delay. 

It  had  grown  late,  and  even  under  the  glazed  roof  she  did 
not  at  once  make  him  out. 

"Daddy!"  she  called  softly. 

She  had  broken  in  upon  one  of  his  deep  reveries,  and  as 
she  spoke  he  started  guiltily.  The  oblong  of  glass  he  had 
been  holding,  staring  at  in  the  lessening  light,  fell  with  a 
crash,  breaking  into  countless  pieces. 

"Oh,  daddy!  Did  I  scare  you  like  that!  Hope  it  wasn't 
one  of  the  best  negatives  that  went  to  smash  —  hard  luck 


,00  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

to  wipe  one  of  those  Autumn  on  Sugar  Creek  gems  out  of 
existence!" 

" It's  all  right,  Phil  —  all  right.  It  was  only  an  old  nega- 
tive. I  was  looking  over  the  rubbish  here  and  amused  myself 
by  printing  some  of  the  old  plates.  There  are  a  lot  of  old 
ghosts  hidden  away  there  in  the  closet.  This  was  an  old 
shop,  you  know,  dating  back  to  the  Civil  War,  and  there  are 
negatives  here  of  a  lot  of  our  local  heroes.  I  wonder  if  it 's 
right  to  throw  them  away?  It's  like  exterminating  a  gen- 
eration to  destroy  them.  There  must  be  people  who  would 
like  to  have  prints  of  some  of  these." 

"  We  might  sell  them  to  that  new  photographer  for  money 

enough  to  paint  the  building,"  she  suggested.    "The  real 

owner  would  owe  us  a  lot  of  rent  if  he  ever  turned  up,  which 

he  never  will.  That  would  be  our  only  way  of  getting  even." 

"There  spoke  a  practical  mind,  Phil!" 

She  knew  from  the  poor  result  of  his  effort  to  appear 

cheery  that  something  had  occurred  to  depress  him.  His  own 

associations  with  Montgomery  had  been  too  recent  for  the 

resurrection  of  old  citizens  to  have  any  deep  significance  for 

him. 

"We  must  go,  Phil;  I  did  n't  mean  for  you  to  catch  me 
here.  I  've  wasted  the  whole  afternoon  —  but  some  of  the 
Sugar  Creek  views  have  come  out  wonderfully.  We  must 
clean  up  and  turn  the  room  over  to  Bernstein  right  away." 
Her  alert  eyes  marked  the  Sugar  Creek  pictures  at  one 
end  of  a  shelf  built  against  the  window,  but  from  his  position 
at  the  moment  she  had  surprised  him  in  his  brooding  she 
knew  that  he  had  not  been  studying  them.  Nor  did  these 
new  prints  from  old  plates  present  likenesses  of  Montgom- 
ery's heroes  of  the  sixties;  but  there  were  three  —  a  little 
quaint  by  reason  of  the  costumes  —  of  a  child,  a  girl  of  four- 
teen, and  a  young  woman;  and  no  second  glance  was  neces- 
sary to  confirm  her  instant  impression  that  these  represented 
her  mother — the  mother  of  whom  she  had  no  memory  what- 
ever. There  were  photographs  and  a  miniature  of  her  mo- 
ther at  home,  and  at  times  she  had  dreamed  over  them;  and 


GHOSTS  SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN      101 

there  was  a  portrait  done  by  an  itinerant  artist  which  hung 
in  her  Uncle  Amzi's  house,  but  this,  her  Aunt  Josephine 
had  once  told  her,  did  not  in  the  least  resemble  Lois. 

Kirkwood  tried  clumsily  to  hide  the  prints. 

"No;  Phil,  please  don't!"  he  exclaimed  harshly. 

"Of  course,  I  may  see  them,  daddy,  —  of  course!" 

He  allowed  her  to  take  them  from  him. 

"It's  mamma,"  said  Phil.  "How  dear  they  are!"  she 
murmured  softly. 

As  she  turned  the  prints  to  catch  the  dimming  light,  he 
watched  her,  standing  inertly  with  his  elbow  on  the  shelf. 

"  Is  n't  it  odd  that  I  never  saw  any  of  these!  even  Uncle 
Amy  has  n't  them." 

She  bent  over  the  print  of  the  child,  who  stood  with  a 
hoop,  smiling  as  though  in  delight  at  her  belated  rescue 
from  oblivion. 

"You  were  going  to  give  these  to  me,  weren't  you, 
daddy?"  She  was  running  over  the  others.  One  that 
showed  the  mature  woman  in  a  fur  cape  long  out  of  fashion 
and  with  a  fur  cap  perched  on  her  head,  held  her  longest. 

"If  you  want  them,"  said  her  father,  "you  shall  have 
them,  of  course.  I  will  touch  them  up  a  bit  in  the  morning." 

"Maybe,"  said  Phil  looking  at  him  quickly,  "it  is  bet- 
ter not  to  keep  them.  Was  it  one  of  these  plates  that 
broke?" 

"Yes,"  said  Kirkwood;  "it  was  this  one";  and  he  indi- 
cated the  picture  that  revealed  his  wife  in  her  young  woman- 
hood. 

It  was  over  this  that  he  had  been  dreaming  alone  in  the 
dim  gallery  when  she  had  interrupted  his  reverie.  The  pity 
of  it  all,  the  bleak  desolation  of  his  life,  smote  her  sharply, 
now  that  she  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  ghosts  scampering 
off  down  the  long  vistas.  With  an  abrupt  gesture  she  flung 
aside  the  melancholy  reminder  of  his  tragedy. 

" Dear  old  daddy!"  She  held  him  in  her  strong  arms  and 
kissed  him. 

She  felt  that  all  these  spectres  must  be  driven  back  into 


,02  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

their  world  of  shadows,  and  she  seized  the  prints  and  tore 
them  until  only  little  heaps  of  paper  remained  and  these  she 
scattered  upon  the  floor. 
"Are  these  the  plates?" 

He  indicated  them  with  a  nod.  One  after  the  other  they 
crashed  echoingly  in  the  bare  gallery.  She  accomplished  the 
destruction  swiftly  and  with  certainty.  One  that  fell  on  edge 
undamaged  she  broke  with  her  heel. 

Then  she  took  a  match  from  his  pocket  and  lit  the  gas  in 
one  of  the  old  burners.  The  light  revealed  a  slight  smile  on 
his  face,  but  it  was  not  his  accustomed  smile  of  good  humor. 
His  eyes  were  very  sad  and  gentle. 

"Thank  you,  dear  old  Phil!  I  guess  that's  the  best 
way,  after  all.  It  must  be  time  to  go  home  now.  Are  you 
ready?" 

"Wait  here  a  minute  —  you  had  better  pull  down  the 
windows  and  lock  up.  I  '11  close  the  office  and  you  can  meet 
me  on  the  landing." 

She  went  out,  closing  the  door,  and  ran  down  to  the  office, 
where  Charles  Holton  stood  at  the  window  looking  out  upon 
Main  Street,  where  the  electric  lamps  were  just  sputtering 
into  light. 

"Ah,"  he  cried  turning  toward  her  with  a  bow,  "  I  'd  begun 
to  think  you  had  forgotten  my  unworthy  presence  on 
earth!" 

"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Holton.  I  'm  sorry,  but  my  father  is  too 
much  engaged  to  see  you  to-day.  If  you  really  want  to  see 
him  you  can  come  in  to-morrow." 

This  was  not  what  he  had  expected.  Dismissal  was  in  her 
tone  rather  more  than  in  her  words.  Their  eyes  met  for  a 
moment  in  the  dim  dusk  and  he  would  have  prolonged  the 
contact;  but  she  walked  to  the  desk  and  stood  there,  looking 
down  at  the  copy  of  "Elia"  which  lay  as  she  had  left  it 
when  he  had  interrupted  her  reading.  She  refused  to  be 
conscious  of  his  disappointment  or  to  make  amends  for 
having  caused  him  to  wait  needlessly.  He  turned  at  the 
door. 


GHOSTS  SEE  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN       103 

"I  hope  I  haven't  put  you  to  any  inconvenience?"  he 
remarked,  but  without  resentment. 

"Not  at  all,  Mr.  Holton.  Good-afternoon!" 

"Good-day,  Miss  Kirkwood." 

She  listened  until  his  step  died  away  down  the  stair  and 
then  went  out  and  whistled  for  her  father. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

LISTENING  HILL 

THE  Holton  farmhouse,  a  pretentious  place  in  the  day  of 
Frederick  Helton's  grandfather,  was  now  habitable  and  that 
was  the  most  that  could  be  said  for  it.  When  the  second 
generation  spurned  the  soil  and  became  urbanized,  the  resi- 
dence was  transformed  from  its  primal  state  into  a  country 
home,  and  the  family  called  it  "Listening  Hill  Farm."  Its 
austere  parlor  of  the  usual  rural  type  was  thrown  to- 
gether with  the  living-room,  the  original  fireplace  was  re- 
constructed, and  running  water  was  pumped  to  the  house 
by  means  of  a  windmill.  The  best  of  the  old  furniture  had 
been  carried  off  to  adorn  the  town  house,  so  that  when  Fred 
succeeded  to  the  ownership  it  was  a  pretty  bare  and  com- 
fortless place.  Samuel  had  never  lived  there,  though  the 
farm  had  fallen  to  him  in  the  distribution  of  his  father's 
estate ;  but  he  had  farmed  it  at  long  range,  first  from  Mont- 
gomery, and  latterly,  and  with  decreasing  success,  from 
Indianapolis  after  his  removal  to  the  capital.  The  year 
before  Fred's  arrival  no  tenant  had  been  willing  to  take  it 
owing  to  the  impoverished  state  of  the  land. 

Most  of  the  farms  in  the  neighborhood  were  owned  by 
town  people,  and  operated  by  tenants.  As  for  Fred,  he 
knew  little  about  agriculture.  On  the  Mexican  plantation 
which  his  father  and  Uncle  William  had  controlled,  he  had 
learned  nothing  that  was  likely  to  prove  of  the  slightest 
value  in  his  attempt  to  wrest  a  living  from  these  neglected 
Hoosier  acres.  His  main  qualifications  for  a  farming  ca- 
reer were  a  dogged  determination  to  succeed  and  a  vigorous, 
healthy  body. 

The  Holtons  had  always  carried  their  failures  lightly,  and 


LISTENING  HILL  105 

even  Samuel,  who  had  died  at  Indianapolis  amid  a  clutter  of 
dead  or  shaky  financial  schemes,  was  spoken  of  kindly  in 
Montgomery.  Samuel  had  saved  himself  with  the  group  of 
politicians  he  had  persuaded  to  invest  in  the  Mexican  mine 
by  selling  out  to  a  German  syndicate  just  before  he  died; 
and  Samuel  had  always  made  a  point  of  taking  care  of  his 
friends.  He  had  carried  through  several  noteworthy  promo- 
tion schemes  with  profit  before  his  Mexican  disasters,  and 
but  for  the  necessity  of  saving  harmless  his  personal  and  po- 
litical friends  he  might  not  have  left  so  little  for  his  children. 
So  spake  the  people  of  Montgomery. 

Charles  Holton  was  nearing  thirty,  and  having  partici- 
pated in  his  father's  political  adventures,  and  been  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  promotion,  he  had  a  wide  acquaintance 
throughout  central  Indiana.  He  had  been  graduated  from 
Madison,  and  in  his  day  at  college  had  done  much  to  relieve 
the  gray  Calvinistic  tone  of  that  sedate  institution.  It  was 
he  who  had  transformed  the  old  "college  chorus"  —  it  had 
been  a  "chorus"  almost  from  the  foundation  —  into  a  glee 
club,  and  he  had  organized  the  first  guitar  and  banjo  club. 
The  pleasant  glow  he  left  behind  him  still  hung  over  the 
campus  when  Fred  entered  four  years  later.  Charles's 
meteoric  social  career  had  dimmed  the  fact  (save  to  a  few 
sober  professors)  that  he  had  got  through  by  the  skin  of  his 
teeth.  Fred's  plodding  ways,  relieved  only  by  his  prowess 
at  football,  had  left  a  very  different  impression.  Fred 
worked  hard  at  his  studies  because  he  had  to ;  and  even  with 
persistence  and  industry  he  had  not  shone  brilliantly  in  the 
scientific  courses  he  had  elected.  The  venerable  dean  once 
said  that  Fred  was  a  digger,  not  a  skimmer  and  skipper,  and 
that  he  would  be  all  right  if  only  he  dug  long  enough.  He 
was  graduated  without  honors  and  went  South  to  throw  in 
his  fortunes  with  his  father's  Mexican  projects.  He  was 
mourned  at  the  college  as  the  best  all-round  player  a 
Madison  eleven  had  ever  boasted ;  but  this  was  about  all. 

When  he  accepted  Listening  Hill  Farm  as  his  share  of  his 
father's  estate,  Fred  had  a  little  less  than  one  thousand  dol- 


io6  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

lars  in  cash,  which  he  had  saved  from  the  salaries  paid  him 
respectively  by  the  plantation  and  mining  companies.  This 
had  been  deposited  as  a  matter  of  convenience  in  an  Indian- 
apolis bank  and  he  allowed  it  to  remain  there.  He  realized 
that  this  money  must  carry  him  a  long  way,  and  that  every 
cent  must  go  into  the  farm  before  anything  came  out  of  it. 
He  had  moved  to  the  farm  late  in  the  summer  —  just  in  time 
to  witness  the  abundant  harvests  of  his  neighbors. 

One  of  the  friendliest  of  these  was  a  young  man  named 
Perry,  who  had  charge  of  Amzi  Montgomery's  place.  Perry 
belonged  to  the  new  school  of  farmers,  and  he  had  done  much 
in  the  four  years  that  he  had  been  in  the  banker's  employ  to 
encourage  faith  in  "book  farming,"  as  it  had  not  yet  ceased 
to  be  called  derisively.  He  was  a  frank,  earnest,  hard- 
working fellow  whose  ambition  was  to  get  hold  of  a  farm  of 
his  own  as  quickly  as  possible.  He  worked  Amzi's  farm  on 
shares,  with  certain  privileges  in  the  matter  of  feeding  cattle. 
Amzi  picked  him  up  by  chance  and  with  misgivings;  but 
Perry  had  earned  the  biggest  dividends  the  land  had  ever 
paid.  Perry  confided  to  Fred  a  hope  he  had  entertained  of 
leasing  the  Holton  farm  for  himself  when  his  contract  with 
Montgomery  expired.  Now  that  Fred  had  arrived  on  the 
scene  he  explained  to  the  tyro  exactly  what  he  had  meant  to 
do  with  the  property.  As  he  had  seriously  canvassed  the  sit- 
uation for  a  couple  of  years,  witnessing  the  failures  of  the 
last  two  tenants  employed  by  Samuel  Holton,  Fred  gladly 
availed  himself  of  his  advice. 

Fred  caught  from  Perry  the  spirit  of  the  new  era  in  farm- 
ing. It  no  longer  sufficed  to  scratch  the  earth  with  a  stick 
and  drop  in  a  seed ;  the  earth  itself  must  be  studied  as  to  its 
weaknesses  and  the  seed  must  be  chosen  with  intelligent 
care.  One  of  the  experts  from  the  state  agricultural  school, 
in  the  field  to  gather  data  for  statistics,  passed  through  the 
country,  and  spent  a  week  with  Fred  for  the  unflattering 
reason  that  the  Holton  acres  afforded  material  for  needed 
information  as  to  exhausted  soils.  He  recommended  books 
for  Fred  to  read,  and  what  was  more  to  the  point  sent  a 


LISTENING  HILL  107 

young  man  to  plan  his  work  and  initiate  him  into  the  mys- 
teries of  tilling  and  fertilizing.  The  soil  expert  was  an  enthu- 
siast, and  he  left  behind  him  the  nucleus  of  a  club  which  he 
suggested  that  the  young  men  of  the  neighborhood  enlarge 
during  the  winter  for  the  discussion  of  new  methods  of  farm 
efficiency. 

Fred  hired  a  man  and  went  to  work.  He  first  repaired  the 
windmill  and  assured  the  water-supply  of  the  house  and 
barn.  A  farmer  unembarrassed  by  crops,  he  planned  his 
campaign  a  year  ahead.  He  worked  harder  on  his  barren 
acres  than  his  neighbors  with  the  reward  of  their  labor  in 
sight.  He  tilled  the  low  land  in  one  of  his  fallow  fields  and 
repaired  the  fences  wherever  necessary.  His  most  careful 
scrutiny  failed  to  disclose  anything  on  which  money  could 
be  realized  at  once  beyond  half  a  dozen  cords  of  wood  which 
he  sent  to  town  and  sold  and  the  apples  he  had  offered  for 
sale  in  the  streets  of  Montgomery.  These  by-products 
hardly  paid  for  the  time  required  to  market  them.  Perry 
had  suggested  that  winter  wheat  be  tried  on  fifty  acres 
which  he  chose  for  the  experiment,  and  in  preparing  and 
sowing  the  land  Fred  found  his  spirits  rising.  The  hired  man 
proved  to  be  intelligent  and  capable,  and  Fred  was  not 
above  learning  from  him.  Fred  did  the  cooking  for  both  of 
them  as  part  of  his  own  labor. 

Some  of  his  old  friends,  meeting  him  in  Main  Street  on 
his  visits  to  town,  commiserated  him  on  his  lot ;  and  others 
thought  William  Holton  ought  to  do  something  for  Fred, 
as  it  was  understood  that  he  was  backing  Charles  in  his 
enterprises.  Still  other  gossips,  pointing  to  the  failure  of  the 
Mexican  ventures,  inclined  to  the  belief  that  Fred  was  a  dull 
fellow,  and  that  he  would  do  as  well  on  the  farm  as  anywhere 
else. 

On  a  Sunday  afternoon  in  this  same  November,  Fred  had 
cleaned  up  after  his  midday  meal  with  the  hired  man  and 
was  sprawled  on  an  old  settle  reading  when  a  motor  arrived 
noisily  in  the  dooryard.  Charles  was  driving  and  with  him 
were  three  strangers.  Fred  went  out  to  meet  his  brother,  who 


io8  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

introduced  his  companions  as  business  men  from  Indian- 
apolis. 

"We  're  taking  a  run  over  the  route  of  the  new  trolley  line 
you've  probably  read  about  in  the  papers.  Had  n't  heard  of  it 
yet?  Well,  it 's  going  to  cut  the  Sycamore  line  at  right  angles 
in  Montgomery,  and  run  down  into  the  coal  fields.  We '  re 
going  to  haul  coal  by  electricity  —  a ;  new  idea  in  these 
parts  —  and  it's  going  to  be  a  big  factor  in  stimulating 
manufactures  in  small  centers.  It 's  going  to  be  a  big  thing 
for  this  section  —  your  farm  is  worth  twenty  dollars  more 
an  acre  just  on  our  prospectus." 

"No  doubt  you 'd  be  glad  to  take  that  twenty  right  now," 
remarked  one  of  the  strangers. 

"Oh,  I'll  wait  for  it,"  replied  Fred,  laughing. 

"Are  you  implying  that  you're  likely  to  have  to  wait?" 
demanded  Charles.  "  My  dear  boy,  we  're  doing  this  just  for 
you  farmers.  In  the  old  days  the  railroads  were  all  in  league 
against  the  poor  but  honest  farmer;  he  was  crippled  as  much 
as  he  was  helped  by  the  railroads;  but  with  the  trolley  the 
farmer  can  be  in  the  deal  from  the  jump.  We  want  every 
farmer  on  this  line  to  have  an  interest ;  we  're  going  to  give 
him  a  chance  to  go  in.  Am  I  right,  Evans?" 

Evans  warmed  to  the  topic.  He  was  a  young  broker  and 
wore  city  clothes  quite  as  good  as  Charles's.  It  was  going  to 
be  a  great  thing  for  the  country  people;  the  possibilities  of 
the  trolley  line  had  not  yet  been  realized.  Social  and  eco- 
nomic conditions  were  to  be  revolutionized,  and  the  world 
generally  would  be  a  very  different  place  when  the  proposed 
line  was  built.  Charles  allowed  his  friends  to  do  most  of  the 
talking  and  they  discussed  the  project  eloquently  for  an  hour. 

The  men  refused  Fred's  invitation  to  go  indoors,  and  said 
they  would  walk  to  the  highway  and  the  machine  could  pick 
them  up. 

When  the  brothers  were  alone,  Charles  spoke  of  the 
farm. 

" I  see  you've  got  to  work.  The  whole  thing  looks  better 
than  I  ever  saw  it.  I'm  glad  you've  painted  the  barn  red; 


LISTENING  HILL  109 

there 's  nothing  like  red  for  a  barn.  I  must  make  a  note  of 
that;  all  barns  should  be  painted  red." 

With  a  gesture  he  colored  all  the  barns  in  the  world  to  his 
taste.  Fred  grinned  his  appreciation  of  his  brother's  humor. 

"I  thought  that  on  Sundays  all  you  young  farmers 
hitched  a  side-bar  buggy  to  a  colt  and  gave  some  pretty  girl 
a  good  time." 

"  I  'd  be  doing  just  that  but  for  two  reasons  —  I  have  n't 
the  colt  or  the  side-bar,  and  I  don't  know  any  girls.  What 
about  this  trolley  line?  I  thought  the  field  was  crowded 
now." 

"Oh,  Uncle  Will  and  I  are  going  to  put  this  one  through 
and  we  're  going  to  make  some  money  out  of  it,  too.  There 's 
money  in  these  things  if  you  know  how  to  handle  'em.  It 's 
in  the  promotion,  not  the  operating." 

"But  I  heard  in  town  that  the  Sycamore  line  is  n't  doing 
well.  There  are  rumors  — " 

"Oh,  I  know  about  that ;  it 's  only  a  fuss  among  the  fellows 
who  are  trying  to  control  it  to  reorganize  and  squeeze  the 
bondholders.  If  father  had  lived  he'd  have  kept  it  level. 
But  we're  all  out  of  it  —  away  out  and  up  the  street." 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  Fred  remarked.  The  gift  of  easy  and 
picturesque  speech  had  been  denied  him.  All  his  life  he  had 
heard  his  father  talk  in  just  this  strain;  and  his  Uncle  Wil- 
liam, while  less  voluble,  was  even  more  persuasive  and  con- 
vincing. Charles  did  not  always  ring  true,  but  any  deficien- 
cies in  this  respect  were  compensated  for  by  his  agreeable  and 
winning  manners.  Fred  had  the  quiet  man's  distrust  of 
ready  talkers;  but  he  admired  his  brother.  Charles  was  no 
end  of  a  bright  fellow  and  would  undoubtedly  get  on. 

"I  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  you,  old  man,"  Charles 
continued.  "I  suppose  you  already  know  some  of  these 
farmers  around  here.  We  're  going  to  give  them  every  chance 
to  go  in  with  us  —  let  'em  in  on  the  ground  floor.  We  feel 
that  this  should  be  the  people's  line  in  the  broadest  sense,  — 
give  'em  a  share  of  the  benefits,  —  not  merely  that  they  can 
flip  a  can  of  milk  on  board  one  of  our  cars  and  hustle  it 


no  OTHERWISE   PHYLLIS 

direct  to  the  consumer  and  get  back  coal  right  at  their  door, 
but  they  shall  participate  in  the  profits  they  help  to  create. 
Now  listen  to  this;  there's  not  much  you  can  do  this  winter 
out  here  and  I  stopped  to  make  you  an  offer  to  solicit  stock 
subscriptions  among  the  country  people.  A  lot  of  these 
farmers  are  rich  fellows,  —  the  farmers  are  getting  altogether 
too  much  money  for  their  own  good,  —  and  here's  an  ideal 
investment  for  them,  a  chance  to  add  to  the  value  of  their 
farms  and  at  the  same  time  earn  a  clean  six  per  cent  on  our 
bonds  and  share  in  the  profits  on  a  percentage  of  common 
that  we  're  giving  bondholders  free  gratis  for  nothing.  What 
do  you  say  to  taking  a  hand  with  us?  We'll  put  you  on  a 
salary  right  away  if  you  say  so.  The  very  fact  that  you  've 
chosen  to  come  here  to  live  and  take  up  farming  will  give 
you  standing  with  the  country  folks." 

Fred  smiled  at  this. 

"  On  the  other  side  of  the  sketch  the  fact  that  I  'm  as  igno- 
rant of  farming  as  the  man  in  the  moon  is  likely  to  rouse  their 
suspicions.  I'm  much  obliged,  Charlie,  but  my  job's  right 
here.  I  'm  going  to  try  to  raise  something  that  I  can  haul  to 
town  in  a  wagon  and  get  money  for.  I  have  n't  your  business 
genius.  It  would  seem  queer  to  me  to  go  about  asking  people 
to  take  their  money  out  of  the  bank  to  give  me  in  exchange 
for  pieces  of  paper  that  might  not  be  good  in  the  end.  And 
besides,  a  good  many  of  these  country  people  swallowed  the 
same  hook  when  it  was  baited  with  Sycamore.  It 's  not  a 
good  time  to  try  the  same  bait  in  this  neighborhood,  —  not 
for  the  Hoi  ton  family,  at  any  rate." 

"Mossback!  I  tell  you  we  're  out  of  Sycamore  with  clean 
hands.  Don't  you  know  that  the  big  fellows  in  New  York  are 
the  men  who  get  in  on  such  promotions  as  this  and  clean  up 
on  it !  I  'm  giving  you  a  chance  that  lots  of  men  right  here  in 
this  county  would  jump  at.  It's  a  little  short  of  a  miracle 
that  a  trolley  coal  road  has  n't  been  built  already.  And  think, 
too,  of  the  prestige  our  family  will  get  out  of  it.  We  Ve  always 
been  the  only  people  in  Montgomery  that  had  any '  git  up  and 
git.'  You  don't  want  to  forget  that  your  name  Holton  is  an 


LISTENING  HILL  m 

asset — an  asset !  Why,  over  in  Indianapolis  the  fact  that  L'm 
one  of  the  Montgomery  Holtons  helps  me  over  a  lot  of  hard 
places,  I  can  tell  you.  Of  course,  father  had  plowed  the 
ground,  and  the  more  I  hear  about  him  the  more  I  admire 
him.  He  had  vision  —  he  saw  things  ahead." 

"And  he  came  pretty  near  dying  busted,"  observed  Fred. 

"But  no  man  lost  a  cent  through  him!"  Charles  flashed. 
"That  makes  me  swell  up  with  pride  every  time  I  think  of  it 
—  that  he  took  care  of  his  friends.  He  saw  things  big,  and 
those  Mexican  schemes  were  all  right.  If  he'd  lived,  they 
would  have  pulled  through  and  been  big  moneymakers." 

They  had  been  walking  slowly  towards  Charles's  machine. 

"I'm  not  saying  anything  against  father,"  said  Fred; 
"but  the  kind  of  things  he  took  up  strike  me  as  dangerous. 
I  know  all  about  that  plantation  and  the  mine,  too,  for  that 
matter.  I  don't  blame  father  for  sending  me  down  there,  but 
I  wish  I  had  back  the  years  I  put  on  those  jobs." 

"Oh,  rot!  The  experience  was  a  big  thing  for  you.  And 
you  got  paid  for  it.  You  must  have  saved  some  money  — 
was  n't  any  way  to  spend  money  down  there." 

"I  don't  keep  an  automobile,"  remarked  Fred  ruefully. 

"  By  Jove,  I  can't  afford  it  myself,  but  I  Ve  got  to  make  a 
front.  Now  those  fellows — " 

His  companions  were  hallooing  from  the  highway  to 
attract  his  attention.  He  waved  and  shouted  that  he  was 
coming. 

"Those  fellows  are  in  touch  with  a  lot  of  investors.  Nice 
chaps.  I  promised  to  get  'em  home  for  dinner,  and  I  must 
skip.  You  'd  better  think  over  my  proposition  before  turning 
it  down  for  good.  I  don't  like  to  think  of  your  being  out  here 
all  winter  doing  nothing.  You  might  as  well  take  a  hand 
with  us.  I  '11  guarantee  that  you  won't  regret  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  care  to  try  it.  I  'm  a  born  rube,  I  guess; 
I  like  it  out  here.  And  I  'm  going  to  stick  until  I  make  good 
or  bust." 

Charles  had  cranked  his  machine  and  jumped  in. 

"Look  here,  Fred,"  he  said,  raising  his  voice  above  the 


ii2  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

noise  of  the  engine,  "when  I  can  do  anything  for  you,  I  want 
you  to  call  on  me.  And  if  you  need  money  at  any  time,  I 
want  you  to  come  to  me  or  go  to  Uncle  Will.  In  fact,  he 's  a 
little  sore  because  you  don't  drop  in  on  him  oftener.  So 
long!" 

The  machine  went  skimming  down  the  road,  and  when  it 
reached  the  pike  and  Charles  picked  up  his  friends,  Fred 
watched  its  slow  ascent  of  Listening  Hill,  and  waited  for  it 
to  disappear  beyond  the  crest. 


CHAPTER   IX 

ON   AN   ORCHARD   SLOPE 

FRED  moved  off  across  the  fields  in  quest  of  Perry.  Charles 
never  left  him  wholly  happy.  His  long  absence  from  home 
had  in  a  way  lessened  his  reliance  on  family  ties,  and  an 
interview  with  his  brother  deepened  the  sense  of  his  own 
dullness.  He  wondered  whether  it  were  not  proof  of  his 
general  worthlessness  that  he  was  so  quickly  adjusting  him- 
self to  the  conditions  of  rural  life ;  and  yet  from  such  reflec- 
tions his  spirit  quickly  rebounded.  In  the  very  soil  itself, 
he  felt  a  kinship,  born  of  a  hidden,  elusive,  cramped  vein  of 
poetic  feeling  that  lay  deep  in  his  nature.  All  life,  he  vaguely 
realized,  is  of  a  piece:  man  and  the  earth  to  which  he  is  born 
respond  to  the  same  laws.  He  contemplated  the  wheatfield, 
tilled  partly  by  his  own  hands,  with  a  stirring  of  the  heart 
that  was  new  to  his  experience.  He  was  wedded  to  this 
land ;  his  hope  was  bound  up  in  it ;  and  he  meant  to  serve 
it  well. 

He  sprang  over  the  fence  into  a  woods  pasture  on  Amzi 
Montgomery's  farm  and  strode  on.  He  picked  up  a  walnut 
and  carried  it  in  his  hand,  sniffing  the  pungent  odor  of  the 
rind.  It  was  as  warm  as  spring,  and  the  dead  leaves,  crisp 
and  crackling  under  his  tread,  seemed  an  anomaly.  The 
wood  behind  him,  he  crossed  a  pasture  toward  the  barn  and 
hesitated,  seeing  that  Perry  was  entertaining  visitors.  He  had 
fallen  into  the  habit  of  dropping  in  at  the  Perrys'  on  Sun- 
day afternoons  and  he  was  expected  to-day,  so  he  kept  on. 
As  he  reached  the  barn  lot,  he  identified  Amzi  Montgomery 
and  Phyllis  Kirkwood,  to  whom  Perry  was  apparently  dilat- 
ing on  the  good  points  of  a  Jersey  calf  that  was  eyeing  the 
visitors  wonderingly. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Holton;  my  lecture  is  just  over.  You  Ve 


ii4  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

heard  it  before  and  I  'm  not  going  to  repeat  it,"  Perry  called 
to  him. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Holton,"  said  Phil. 

He  pulled  off  his  hat  and  walked  up  to  shake  hands  with 
her. 

"I  did  n't  expect  to  find  you  here.  I  usually  come  over 
Sunday  afternoons." 

"  Does  that  mean  you  would  n't  have  come  if  you  'd  known 
we  were  here!"  laughed  Phil.  "Oh,  Uncle  Amy,  this  is  Mr. 
Fred  Holton.  He's  your  next-door  neighbor." 

Amzi  turned  from  his  observation  of  the  calf  and  took  the 
cigar  from  his  mouth.  He  remembered  Fred  Holton  as  a  boy 
and  the  young  man  had  latterly  fallen  within  his  range 
of  vision  in  Main  Street.  He  availed  himself  of  this  nearer 
view  to  survey  Samuel  Helton's  younger  son  deliberately. 
Fred  waited  an  instant  for  the  banker  to  make  a  sign.  Amzi 
took  a  step  toward  him  and  Fred  advanced  and  offered  his 
hand. 

"How  d'  ye  do,  Fred,"  said  Amzi,  and  looked  him  over 
again.  He  addressed  him  quite  as  cordially  as  he  would  have 
spoken  to  any  other  young  man  he  might  have  found  there. 
"Perry  has  told  me  about  you.  I  guess  you've  got  quite  a 
job  over  there." 

"Yes,  but  I  was  looking  for  a  job  when  I  took  it,"  said 
Fred. 

"I  like  being  a  farmer  myself,"  said  the  banker,  "when  I 
know  the  corn  's  growing  while  I  'm  in  bed  in  town." 

"I  think  I'll  stay  up  nights  to  watch  my  corn  grow,  if  it 
ever  does,"  said  Fred. 

"That  land  of  yours  is  all  right,"  said  Amzi  amiably,  "but 
it 's  got  to  be  brought  up.  That  farm  's  been  cursed  with 
overdrafts,  and  overdrafts  in  any  business  are  bad." 

"That's  a  new  way  of  putting  it,"  Fred  replied,  "but  I  'm 
sure  it's  sound  doctrine.  You  can't  take  out  what  you  don't 
put  in." 

"That,"  said  Amzi,  feeling  in  his  pocket  for  his  matchbox, 
"is  a  safe  general  principle." 


ON  AN  ORCHARD  SLOPE  115 

He  passed  his  cigar-case  to  Perry  and  Fred,  commended 
his  own  cigars  humorously,  and  looked  Fred  over  again  as 
the  young  man  refused,  explaining  that  he  had  grown  used 
to  a  pipe  and  was  afraid  of  the  shock  to  his  system  of  a 
good  cigar. 

"We  were  going  to  take  a  walk  over  the  place;  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery wants  to  see  his  orchard.  Come  along,  won't  you?" 
said  Perry. 

Fred  waited  for  a  confirmation  of  the  tenant's  invitation. 

"Yes;  come  along,  Fred,"  said  Amzi. 

His  manner  toward  Holton  was  that  of  an  old  acquaint- 
ance; he  called  him  Fred  quite  as  though  it  were  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  for  him  to  do  so.  Phil  and  Perry 
moved  off  together  and  Amzi  walked  along  beside  Fred 
across  a  field  of  wheat  stubble  toward  the  orchard  that 
stretched  away  on  a  slope  that  corresponded  to  the  rise  of 
Listening  Hill  in  the  highway.  He  talked  of  fruit-growing  in 
which  he  appeared  to  be  deeply  interested,  and  declared  that 
there  was  no  reason  why  fruit  should  be  only  an  insect- 
blighted  by-product  of  such  farms  as  his;  that  intelligent 
farmers  were  more  and  more  taking  it  up.  He  confessed  his 
firm  belief  in  scientific  farming  in  all  its  branches.  Most 
men  in  small  towns  keep  some  touch  with  the  soil.  In  a 
place  like  Montgomery  the  soil  is  the  immediate  source  of 
urban  prosperity,  and  in  offices  and  stores  men  discuss  crop 
conditions  and  prospects  as  a  matter  of  course.  Amzi  owned 
a  number  of  farms  in  different  parts  of  the  county,  but  this 
one  that  had  been  long  in  the  family  was  his  particular  pride. 
He  paused  now  and  then  to  point  out  features  of  his  posses- 
sions for  Fred's  admiration. 

"Land,"  he  observed  reflectively,  "is  like  a  man  or  a 
horse;  you  got  to  treat  'em  right  or  they  won't  work.  Thun- 
der! You  think  you'll  stick  it  out  over  there,  do  you?" 

"I've  got  to;  and  I  want  to!    I  want  to  make  it  go! " 

Amzi  glared  at  him  a  moment  with  puffed  cheeks.  Fred 
had  spoken  with  warmth,  and  being  unfamiliar  with  the 
banker's  habit  of  trying  to  blow  up  occasionally,  for  no 


u6  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

reason  whatever,  he  was  a  little  appalled  by  Amzi's  manner 
of  receiving  his  declaration. 

"If  you  mean  it  like  that,"  said  the  banker,  "you  will 
make  it  go.  It's  the  wanting  to  do  a  thing  real  hard  that 
brings  it  round.  Is  that  gospel?" 

He  blurted  his  question  with  a  ferociousness  that  again 
startled  Fred ;  but  he  was  beginning  to  suspect  that  this  was 
the  banker's  usual  way  of  conversing,  and  his  awe  of  him 
diminished.  Amzi  was  an  amusing  person,  with  a  tang  of 
his  own;  and  he  clearly  meant  to  be  kind.  It  was  necessary 
to  answer  the  banker's  last  explosion  and  Fred  replied  so- 
berly : 

"  I  hope  it  is;  I  hope  the  wanting  to  do  it  will  help  in  the 
doing." 

Amzi  made  no  response  to  this.  He  seemed  to  ignore  it, 
and  spoke  of  Perry  admiringly,  as  the  kind  of  man  he  liked, 
quoting  statistics  of  the  wheat  yield  of  the  field  they  were 
traversing,  and  then  stopped  abruptly. 

"Thunder!   How  did  they  come  to  give  you  the  farm?" 

"I  took  it:  I  chose  to  take  it.  It  was  by  an  agreement 
between  my  brother  and  sister  and  me.  I'm  not  sure  but 
that  I  got  the  best  of  the  partition.  The  stocks  and  bonds 
father  left  did  n't  mean  anything  to  me.  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  such  things." 

"They  let  you  have  the  farm  as  your  share;  you  were 
afraid  of  the  other  stuff  ?" 

"Yes;  it  did  n't  look  very  good  and  I  was  perfectly  satis- 
fied. I  thought  the  arrangement  fair  enough  to  me:  Charlie 
knew  about  the  other  things  and  I  did  n't.  Most  of  them 
were  very  doubtful." 

"They  told  you  they  were  doubtful;  you  did  n't  know 
anything  about  them.  Was  that  the  way  of  it?" 

"Yes;  that  was  about  the  way  of  it,  Mr.  Montgomery." 

Amzi  glared  and  drew  out  his  handkerchief  to  mop  his 
face. 

"I  saw  an  automobile  come  out  of  your  place  awhile  ago 
and  climb  the  hill  toward  town.  Charlie  been  to  see  you?" 


ON  AN  ORCHARD  SLOPE  "7 

"Yes.  He  had  some  friends  with  him^from  the  city. 
Charlie  knows  no  end  of  people." 

"There  are  people  like  that,"  said  Amzi,  kicking  a  clod, 
and  in  doing  so  nearly  losing  his  equilibrium;  "there  are 
people  with  a  talent  for  knowing  folks."  This  was  not  an 
important  observation,  nor  was  it  at  all  relevant.  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery had  merely  gone  as  far  as  he  cared  to  in  the  discus- 
sion of  the  distribution  of  Samuel  Helton's  estate  and  this 
was  his  way  of  changing  the  subject. 

Amzi  walked  ahead  with  Perry  when  they  met  at  the  edge 
of  the  orchard  and  Phil  loitered  behind  with  Fred.  A  hawk 
swung  from  the  cloudless  blue ;  sparrows,  disturbed  by  these 
visitors,  flew  down  the  orchard  aisles  in  panic.  The  air  was 
as  dry  as  the  stubble  of  the  shorn  fields.  From  the  elevation 
crowned  by  the  orchard  it  was  possible  to  survey  the  neigh- 
borhood and  Phil  and  Fred  paused  in  silence  for  several 
minutes,  with  their  faces  turned  toward  the  creek. 

Seeing  Phil  thus  was  very  different  from  seeing  her  across 
a  fence  in  the  moonlight,  or  meeting  her  at  her  kitchen  door. 
Her  new  dark-blue  gown  with  hat  to  match  struck  him  as  be- 
ing very  stylish,  as  indeed,  they  were,  having  come  from  the 
best  shop  in  Indianapolis.  Phil  in  gloves  was  a  different  Phil, 
a  remote  being  quite  out  of  hailing  distance.  He  was  torn 
between  admiration  for  her  dressed-upness  and  rebellion 
against  a  splendor  that  set  her  apart  like  a  goddess  for  tim- 
orous adoration.  Standing  beside  and  a  little  behind  her,  his 
soul  was  shaken  by  the  quick  shadowings  of  her  lashes.  He 
was  so  deep  in  thought  during  this  silent  contemplation 
that  he  started  and  blushed  when  she  turned  round  suddenly. 

"We're  terribly  solemn,  I  think,"  she  remarked,  regarding 
him  carelessly. 

This  was  unfair.  She  had  no  right  to  look  at  him  in  that 
fashion,  taking  his  breath  away  and  saying  something  to 
which  he  could  think  of  no  reply  whatever.  Amzi  and  Perry 
had  wandered  away  out  of  sight.  She  had  spoken  of  solemn- 
ity; it  was  a  solemn  thing  to  be  alone  with  a  girl  like  Phil, 
on  a  day  like  this,  under  a  fleckless  sky,  and  with  the  scarlet 


us  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

maples  and  the  golden  beeches  gladdening  the  distances. 
Without  looking  at  him,  Phil  extended  her  monologue:  — 
"I  like  cheerfulness  myself." 

"  I'm  not  so  opposed  to  it  as  you  may  imagine,"  he  replied, 
smiling.  "I'm  not  much  of  a  talker.  I 've  been  alone  a  whole 
lot,  in  lonesome  places  where  there  was  n't  anybody  to  talk 
to.  I  suppose  talking  is  a  habit.  When  there  are  people 
around  who  talk  about  things  it's  natural  to  get  into  the 
way  of  talking.  Is  n't  that  so?" 

' '  I  suspect  it  is, "  Phil  answered .  ' '  While  my  critics  have  n '  t 
exactly  said  that  I  talk  too  much,  they  agree  that  I  talk 
at  the  wrong  time.  Let's  all  be  seated." 

She  dropped  down  on  the  grass,  and  smoothed  her  skirt. 
It  was  the  best  everyday  dress  she  had  ever  owned  and  she 
meant  to  be  careful  of  it.  Her  patent  leather  oxford  ties  were 
the  nicest  she  had  ever  had,  and  she  was  not  without  her 
pride  in  their  brightness.  Fred  seated  himself  near  her.  His 
clothes  were  his  Sunday  best,  and  none  too  good  at  that ;  he 
was  painfully  conscious  of  the  contrast  of  their  raiment. 

"Your  brother  Charlie  talks  a  good  deal.  I  saw  him  the 
other  day,"  said  Phil. 

"Yes ;  Charlie  talks  mighty  well.  He  can  talk  to  anybody. 
Where  did  you  meet  him?" 

"In  town,  at  father's  office." 

"Oh;  he  was  there,  was  he?" 

It  was  plain  that  Fred  was  surprised  that  there  should  be 
any  intercourse  between  the  Kirkwoods  and  his  brother. 

"  He  called  to  see  father ;  but  he  did  n't  see  him,"  explained 
Phil,  as  though  reading  his  thoughts  and  willing  to  satisfy 
his  curiosity. 

"  Charlie 's  getting  up  a  new  trolley  line.  He  wanted  me  to 
go  in  with  him." 

"Gave  you  a  chance  to  escape  from  your  farm?  I  should 
think  you  would  be  tempted." 

I  did  n't  feel  the  temptation  particularly,"  answered 
Fred;  "but  it  was  kind  of  him  to  come  and  see  me." 

"Well,  there  is  that,"  Phil  replied  indifferently.    "You 


ON  AN  ORCHARD  SLOPE  119 

seemed  to  get  on  first-rate  with  Uncle  Amy.  Was  that  the 
first  time  you  ever  talked  to  him?" 

"Yes.  But  I  remember  that  once  when  I  was  a  little 
chap  he  met  me  in  the  street  over  by  the  college  —  I  remem- 
ber the  exact  spot  —  and  gave  me  a  penny.  I  seem  to 
remember  that  he  used  to  do  that  with  children  quite  unex- 
pectedly. I  imagine  that  he  does  a  lot  of  nice  things  for 
people." 

"Uncle  Amy,"  said  Phil  deliberately,  "is  the  second 
grandest  man  now  present  on  earth.  Daddy  is  the  first." 

"I  don't  know  your  father,  except  as  I  see  him  in  the 
street." 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Phil. 

These  commonplaces  were  leading  nowhere,  and  they  were 
becoming  the  least  bit  trying. 

"My  aunts  have  decided  that  the  Montgomerys  and  the 
Holtons  might  as  well  bury  the  hatchet.  They're  going  to 
ask  your  Uncle  William  to  my  party.  They  can't  stand  not 
knowing  your  aunt." 

He  did  not  at  once  grasp  this.  He  was  only  dimly  con- 
scious of  Montgomery  social  values  and  the  prominence  of 
his  Uncle  William's  wife  had  not  seemed  to  him  a  matter 
of  importance.  His  acquaintance  with  that  lady  was  indeed 
slight,  and  he  did  not  see  at  once  wherein  Phil's  aunts  had 
anything  to  gain  by  cultivating  her  society,  nor  did  Phil 
enlighten  him.  This  turn  of  the  talk  embarrassed  him  by  its 
suggestion  of  the  escapade  in  which  Phil's  mother  and  his 
uncle  had  figured.  Phil  was  not  apparently  troubled  by  this. 

"They  did  n't  invite  you  to  my  party,  did  they?" 

He  did  not  know  exactly  whom  she  meant  by  "they"; 
and  he  had  not  heard  of  Phil's  party. 

"No,"  he  answered,  smiling;  "they  probably  never  heard 
of  me." 

"Well,  you  will  be  invited.  Your  brother  and  sister  are 
coming.  Your  brother  Charlie  told  me  so.  He 's  going  to  give 
up  a  trip  to  New  York  just  to  be  there." 

Phil,  he  reflected,  had  been  pleased  by  Charles's  magna- 


120  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

nimity  in  changing  plans  that  embraced  the  magical  name 
of  New  York  to  be  present  at  her  coming-out  party.  From 
his  knowledge  of  his  brother  he  felt  quite  sure  that  Charles 
must  think  it  worth  while  to  abandon  the  visit  to  New  York 
to  pay  the  tribute  of  his  presence  to  a  daughter  of  the  Mont- 
gomerys.  This  contributed  to  Fred's  discomfiture  and  made 
it  more  difficult  to  talk  to  Phil.  On  the  face  of  it  Phil  was 
not  a  difficult  person.  He  had  seen  her  dance  round  a  corn- 
shock  in  the  moonlight,  and  a  girl  who  would  do  that  ought 
to  be  easy  to  talk  to;  and  he  had  seen  her,  aproned  at  her 
kitchen  door,  throw  an  apple  at  a  cat  with  enviable  exact- 
ness of  aim,  and  a  girl  who  threw  apples  at  cats  should  be 
human  and  approachable.  It  must  be  her  smart  city  frock 
that  made  the  difference:  he  hated  Phil's  clothes,  and  he  re- 
sented with  particular  animosity  the  gloves  that  concealed 
her  hands. 

She  saw  the  frown  on  his  face. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  heard  you  say  whether  you  were  coming 
to  my  party  or  not.  If  you  expect  to  travel  about  that  time 
you  need  n't  put  yourself  out,  of  course.  You  shall  have  one 
of  our  regular  engraved  invitations.  How  do  you  get  mail 
out  here?"  she  ended  practically. 

"  R.F.D.  7.  It  will  be  thrilling  to  get  something  out  of  that 
bird's  nest  besides  bills,  fertilizer  and  incubator  circulars, 
and  the  bulletins  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  Thank 
you  very  much.  But  if,  after  conferring  with  your  aunts, 
you  find  that  they  don't  approve  of  me,  it  will  be  all 
right." 

"You  have  funny  thoughts  in  your  head,  don't  you? 
Don't  you  suppose  I  'm  going  to  have  something  to  say  about 
my  own  party?  Just  for  a  postscript  I  '11  tell  you  now  that  I 
expect  you  to  come.  If  I  've  got  to  have  a  party  I  want  to 
have  as  many  fellow-sufferers  as  possible." 

"Does  that  mean"  —  and  Fred  laughed  —  "that  you  are 
not  terribly  excited  about  your  own  party?  It  sounded  that 
way." 

He  was  not  interested  in  parties  himself;  he  had  hardly 


ON  AN  ORCHARD  SLOPE  121 

been  to  one  since  he  was  a  child,  and  the  thought  of  such  an 
imposing  function  as  he  assumed  Phil's  coming  out  would  be 
appalled  him.  And  there  was  the  matter  of  clothes:  the 
dress-suit  he  had  purchased  while  he  was  in  college  had  gone 
glimmering  long  ago.  The  Sunday  best  he  wore  to-day  was 
two  years  old,  and  a  discerning  eye  might  have  detected  its 
imperfections  which  a  recent  careful  pressing  had  not  wholly 
obliterated.  His  gaze  turned  for  a  moment  toward  the  land  in 
which  lay  his  hope;  he  had  to  look  past  Phil  to  see  those 
acres.  His  thoughts  were  still  upon  her  party  and  his  rela- 
tion to  it,  so  that  it  was  with  a  distinct  shock  that  he  heard 
her  say  softly  and  wistfully:  — 

"It's  queer,  isn't  it?" 

"What  is?" 

She  lifted  her  arm  with  a  sweeping  gesture. 

"The  world  —  things  generally  —  what  interests  you  and 
me;  what  interests  Uncle  Amy  and  Mr.  Perry;  the  buzzings 
in  all  our  noddles.  Thousands  of  people,  in  towns  just  like 
Montgomery,  live  along  some  way  or  other,  and  most  of 
them  do  the  best  they  can,  and  keep  out  of  jails  and  poor- 
houses,  mostly,  and  nothing  very  important  happens  to 
them  or  has  to.  It  always  strikes  me  as  odd  how  unimpor- 
tant we  all  are.  We  're  just  us,  and  if  God  did  n't  make  us 
very  big  or  wise  or  good,  why,  there's  nothing  to  be  done 
about  it.  And  no  matter  how  hard  we  get  knocked,  or  how 
often  we  stumble,  why,  most  of  us  like  the  game  and  would  n't 
give  it  up  for  anything.  I  think  that 's  splendid ;  the  way  we 
just  keep  plugging  on.  We  all  think  something  pleasant  is 
going  to  happen  to-morrow  or  day-after-to-morrow.  Every- 
body does.  And  that 's  what  keeps  the  world  moving  and 
everybody  tolerably  cheerful  and  happy." 

Phil  the  philosopher  was  still  another  sort  of  person.  She 
had  spoken  in  her  usual  tone  and  he  looked  at  her  wonder- 
ingly.  It  was  a  new  experience  to  hear  life  reduced  to  the 
simple  terms  Phil  used.  She  seemed  to  him  like  a  teacher 
who  keeps  a  dull  pupil  after  class,  and,  by  eliminating  all 
unessential  factors,  makes  clear  what  an  hour  before  had 


izz  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

been  only  a  jumble  of  meaningless  terms  in  the  student's 

mind. 

He  was  still  dumb  before  this  new  Phil  with  her  a,  b,  c 
philosophy  when  her  eyes  brightened,  and  she  sprang  to  her 
feet.  Bending  forward  with  her  hand  to  her  ear,  and  then 
dropping  her  arms  to  her  sides,  she  said :  — 

"Adown  the  orchard  aisles  they  come,  methinks,  — 
My  lord  who  guardest  well  his  treasure  chests, 
Attended  by  his  squire  and  faithful  drudge, 
And  back  to  town  I  soon  must  lightly  skip 
Else  father  will  be  roaring  for  his  tea." 

She  was,  indeed,  a  mystifying  being!  It  was  not  until  the 
absurdity  of  her  last  line  broke  upon  him  that  he  saw  that 
this  was  only  another  side  of  Phil  the  inexplicable.  She 
threw  up  her  arm  and  signaled  to  her  Uncle  Amzi,  who  was 
approaching  with  Perry.  The  interruption  was  unwelcome. 
It  had  been  a  bewildering  experience  to  sit  beside  Phil  on  the 
sunny  orchard  slope.  He  had  not  known  that  any  girl  could 
be  like  this. 

"Do  you  write  poetry?"  he  asked,  from  the  depths  of  his 
humility. 

She  turned  with  a  mockery  of  disdain. 

"  I  should  think  you  could  see,  Mr.  Holton,  that  these  are 
not  singing  robes,  nor  is  this  lovely  creation  of  a  hat  wrought 
in  the  similitude  of  a  wreath  of  laurel ;  but  both  speak  for  the 
plain  prose  of  life.  You  have,  therefore,  no  reason  to  fear 
me." 

In  a  moment  they  were  all  on  their  way  to  the  house;  and 
soon  Phil  and  Amzi  were  driving  homeward. 

"What  was  Fred  Holton  talking  to  you  about?"  asked 
Amzi,  as  he  shook  the  reins  over  the  back  of  his  roadster. 

"He  wasn't  talking  to  me,  Amy;  I  was  talking  to  him. 
He's  a  nice  boy." 

"He  does  n't  run  so  much  to  gold  watches  and  chains  as 
the  rest  of  'em.  He  seems  to  be  pretty  decent.  Perry  says 
he's  got  the  right  stuff  in  him."  And  then,  with  more  ani- 
mation :  ' '  Those  Holtons !  Thunder ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  X 
PHIL'S  PARTY 

MR.  AMZI  MONTGOMERY  thought  it  only  proper  to  learn 
all  that  was  possible  of  the  affairs  of  his  customers.  This 
was  the  part  of  wisdom  in  a  cautious  banker;  and  he  was 
distressed  when  checks  that  were  not  self-explanatory 
passed  through  the  receiving-teller's  window.  A  small  bank 
is  a  good  place  in  which  to  sharpen  one's  detective  sense. 
Every  check  tells  a  story  and  is  in  some  degree  a  clue. 

No  account  on  his  bank's  ledgers  was  more  often  scruti- 
nized than  that  of  Nancy  Bartlett,  and  when  she  deposited 
a  draft  for  $2115.15,  the  incident  was  not  one  to  be  passed 
lightly.  No  such  sum  had  ever  before  been  placed  to  Nan's 
credit.  He  knew  that  she  received  five-  and  ten-  and  even 
fifty-dollar  drafts  from  Eastern  periodicals,  and  he  had 
touched  these  with  reverent  hands :  but  two  thousand  dollars 
in  a  lump  from  one  of  the  best-known  publishers  in  the  coun- 
try staggered  Amzi.  To  add  to  his  mystification,  half  the 
amount  plus  one  cent,  to-wit,  $1057.58,  was  immediately 
transferred  to  Thomas  Kirkwood's  account,  and  this  left 
Amzi  away  up  in  the  air.  Just  what  right  Tom  Kirkwood 
had  to  participate  in  Nan's  earnings  Amzi  did  not  know, 
nor  did  he  see  immediately  any  way  of  finding  out. 

What  did  happen,  though,  coincident  with  this  event, 
and  much  to  his  gratification,  was  the  installation  of  a  girl- 
of-all-work  in  Kirkwood's  house.  Phil  had  been  dislodged 
from  the  kitchen,  and  Amzi  was  mightily  relieved  by  this. 
A  kitchen  was  no  place  for  his  niece,  that  flower  of  the 
Montgomery  flock.  His  spirits  rose  when  Phil  hailed  him 
one  morning  as  he  stood  baring  his  head  to  the  November  air 
on  the  bank  steps,  and  told  him  that  her  occupation  was 
gone.  She  made  the  confession  ruefully ;  it  was  unfair  for  her 


i24  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

father  to  discharge  her  just  as  she  was  getting  the  hang  of  the 
range  and  learning  to  broil  a  steak  without  incinerating  it. 
"Just  for  that "  she  would  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  in  Main 
Street,  and  ruin  her  constitution  at  Struby's  soda-fountain. 

While  Amzi  was  still  trying  to  account  for  Nan's  check, 
two  other  incidents  contributed  further  to  his  perplexities. 
On  his  way  home  one  evening  he  saw  Nan  and  Kirkwood 
walking  together.  It  was  only  a  fair  assumption  that  the 
two  friends  had  met  by  chance  and  that  Kirkwood  was 
merely  accompanying  Nan  to  her  door,  as  he  had  every 
right  to  do.  They  were  walking  slowly  and  talking  earnestly. 
To  avoid  passing  them,  Amzi  turned  off  at  the  first  cross- 
street,  but  stood  for  a  moment  staring  after  them.  Then  the 
next  evening  he  had  gone  to  call  at  the  Bartletts'  and  all  his 
intervening  speculations  were  overthrown  when  he  found 
Kirkwood  there  alone  with  Rose,  Nan  being,  it  seemed,  in  In- 
dianapolis on  a  visit.  Rose  and  Kirkwood  had  evidently  been 
deeply  engrossed,  too,  when  Amzi  interrupted  their  confer- 
ence with  the  usual  thump  of  the  drumstick.  The  piano,  he 
observed,  was  closed,  and  it  was  inexplicable  that  Kirkwood 
should  be  spending  an  unmusical  evening  with  Rose.  Nor 
was  Phil  with  her  father.  This  was  another  damaging  fact. 
It  was  a  blow  to  Amzi  to  find  that  such  things  could  happen 
in  his  own  town,  and  under  his  very  eyes. 

If  it  had  n't  been  for  Phil's  party,  the  preparations  for 
which  gave  him  plenty  to  do,  Amzi's  winter  would  have 
opened  most  unhappily;  but  Phil's  party  was  an  event  of  im- 
portance not  only  in  her  life,  but  in  Amzi's  as  well.  Every- 
body who  had  the  slightest  title  to  consideration  received 
an  invitation.  He  was  glad  his  sisters  had  suggested  that  the 
Holtons  be  invited.  It  gave  him  an  excuse  for  opening 
the  doors  wide.  He  heard  much  from  his  kinsfolk  about  the 
prosperity  of  the  Holtons,  who  were  held  up  to  him  in  rebuke 
for  his  own  sluggish  business  methods.  He  wanted  his  sisters 
and  the  rest  of  the  world  to  know  that  the  First  National 
Bank  of  Montgomery  aroused  in  him  no  jealous  pangs. 

Phil  arrived  at  Amzi's  early  and  ran  upstairs  to  take  off 


PHIL'S  PARTY  125 

her  wraps.  When  this  was  accomplished  and  her  Aunt 
Fanny's  housemaid,  lent  for  the  occasion,  had  duly  admired 
her,  she  knocked  boldly  on  her  uncle's  door. 

"Come  in,  you  Phil,"  he  shouted. 

Amzi  stood  before  his  chiffonier  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  trying 
to  make  a  bow  of  his  white  tie.  A  cigar,  gripped  firmly  in 
his  teeth,  was  not  proving  of  much  assistance  in  the  opera- 
tion. As  Phil  crossed  the  room,  he  jerked  off  the  strip  of 
lawn  and  threw  it  into  the  open  drawer. 

"See  what  you've  done?  See  all  that  litter?  All  that  stuff 
crumpled  up  and  wasted  just  on  your  account?  I  told  that 
fellow  in  Indianapolis  to  give  me  the  readymade  kind  that 
buckles  behind,  but  he  would  n't  listen;  said  they  don't  keep 
'em  any  more.  And  look  at  that!  It's  a  good  thing  I  got  a 
dozen!  Thunder!" 

The  "Thunder"  was  due  to  the  fact  that  in  his  excess  of 
emotion  over  the  difficulties  with  his  raiment,  his  eyes  had 
not  until  that  instant  taken  in  Phil.  His  jaw  fell  as  he 
stared  and  tears  filled  his  eyes.  Above  the  soft  folds  of  her 
white  crepe  gown  the  firm  clean  lines  of  her  shoulders  and 
throat  were  revealed  and  for  the  first  time  he  fully  realized 
that  the  Phil  who  had  gladdened  his  days  by  her  pranks 
—  Phil  the  romp  and  hoyden  —  had  gone,  and  that  she 
would  never  be  quite  the  same  again.  There  was  a  distinct 
shock  in  the  thought.  It  carried  him  back  to  the  day  when 
her  mother  had  danced  across  the  threshold  from  youth  to 
womanhood,  with  all  of  Phil's  charm  and  grace  and  her 
heart  of  laughter. 

Phil  fanned  herself  languidly,  feigning  to  ignore  his  bewild- 
erment. An  aigrette  in  her  hair  emphasized  her  height.  She 
lifted  her  arms  and,  whistling  softly,  pirouetted  about  the 
room.  Her  movements  were  those  of  vigorous,  healthy 
youth.  Her  eyes  were  bright  and  her  cheeks  aglow. 

"Thunder!"  gasped  Amzi,  feeling  absently  of  his  collar. 
"Is  that  you,  Phil?" 

"Generally  speaking,  it  ain't,  Amy.  What  do  you  think 
of  the  gladness  of  these  joyful  rags  anyhow?" 


iz6  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"You  look  right,  Phil.  You've  grown  about  six  inches 
since  I  saw  you  last.  High  heels?" 

She  thrust  out  a  slipper  for  his  inspection. 

"Those  clothes  are  not  as  bad  as  some  I  Ve  seen.  I  don't 
mind  the  low-in- the-neck  effect  when  there 's  a  neck  to  show 
like  yours.  Most  of  'em  look  like  the  neck  of  a  picked  gander. 
I  guess  Fanny  did  about  the  right  thing.  Fanny's  taste  is 
usually  pretty  fair." 

"Oh,  the  whole  syndicate  took  a  hand  in  it,"  said  Phil 
with  a  sigh.  "They  nearly  wore  me  out;  but  they  were  so 
busy  consulting  each  other  that  they  did  n't  notice  that 
I  chose  the  crepe  myself.  But  I  wanted  you  to  like  my 
things,  Amy." 

"Of  course  I  like  'em.  You  certainly  look  grand." 

He  rummaged  in  one  of  the  chiffonier  drawers. 

"Just  wait  a  minute,"  he  said;  "you  've  got  to  fix  this  fool 
thing  for  me."  He  placed  a  fresh  tie  round  his  white-wing 
collar  and  loosely  crossed  the  ends.  "I  ain't  going  to  take 
any  chances  of  spoiling  this.  Now,  Phil,  do  your  noblest." 

"With  gloves  on?  Well,  I'm  used  to  doing  daddy's  over 
again,  so  here  goes." 

He  stood  with  his  chin  in  air  while  she  tied  the  bow.  Her 
youth,  her  loveliness,  her  red  lips,  compressed  at  the  crucial 
moment  when  the  bow  took  form,  moved  and  thrilled  him. 
No  one  in  the  world  had  ever  been  so  dear  to  him  as  Phil ! 
When  she  rested  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  tilted  her 
head  to  one  side  to  study  her  handiwork  he  raised  himself 
on  his  toes  and  lifted  his  hands,  in  one  of  which  he  had  con- 
cealed something. 

"Bend  your  head  a  little,  Phil;  I  ought  to  have  a  ladder 
for  this." 

And  in  a  moment  he  drew  down  upon  her  neck  a  chain 
with  a  pendant  of  pearls,  which  he  had  chosen  with  the 
greatest  care  at  the  best  jeweler's  in  Indianapolis. 

"Now  look  at  yourself!" 

She  sprang  to  the  mirror,  and  while  she  was  exclaiming 
over  it,  he  remarked,  "  I  guess  it  don't  make  you  look  much 


PHIL'S  PARTY  127 

worse,  Phil.  But  it  does  n't  make  you  look  much  nicer. 
Thunder !  Nothing  could ! ' ' 

"Amy!  I'm  going  to  muss  you  up!"  she  cried,  wheeling 
round. 

"Phil  —  don't  you  touch  me;  don't  you  dare!" 

He  backed  away  and  began  drawing  on  his  coat,  and  she 
abandoned  the  idea  of  mussing  him  to  make  sure  his  tie 
did  n't  crawl  up  over  his  collar.  She  clasped  him  tight  and 
kissed  him  on  the  mouth. 

"What  a  dear  old  pal  you  are,  Amy,"  she  said,  laying  her 
cheek  against  his.  "Don't  you  ever  think  I  don't  appreciate 
what  you  do  for  me  —  what  you  are  to  me!" 

"  I  guess  that's  all  right,  Phil,"  he  said,  and  turned  round 
to  the  chiffonier  and  blew  his  nose  furiously.  "Where's 
Tom?" 

"  I  guess  daddy  's  gone  downstairs." 

"Well,  most  of  your  aunts  are  on  the  job  somewhere  and 
we  'd  better  go  down  and  start  this  party.  I  hear  the  fiddlers 
tuning  up." 

Amzi  II  had  built  a  big  house  with  a  generous  hall  and 
large  rooms,  and  it  had  been  a  matter  of  pride  with  Amzi  III 
to  maintain  it  as  it  had  been,  refusing  to  listen  to  the  advice 
of  his  sisters  that  he  shut  off  part  of  it.  Amzi  liked  space, 
and  he  was  not  in  the  least  dismayed  by  problems  of  house- 
keeping. In  preparing  for  Phil's  party  he  had  had  all  the 
white  woodwork  repainted,  and  the  floors  of  the  drawing- 
and  living-rooms  had  been  polished  for  dancing. 

In  Montgomery  functions  of  all  sorts  begin  early.  The 
number  of  available  public  vehicles  is  limited,  and  by  gen- 
eral consent  the  citizens  take  turns  in  the  use  of  them.  There 
had  n't  been  a  party  at  the  Montgomery  homestead  since 
the  marriage  of  the  last  of  the  Montgomery  girls.  It  was 
not  surprising  that  to-night  many  people  thought  a  little 
mournfully  of  the  marriage  of  the  first!  The  launching 
of  Phil  afforded  opportunity  for  contrasting  her  with  her 
mother ;  she  was  or  she  was  not  like  Lois ;  nearly  all  the  old 
people  had  an  opinion  one  way  or  another. 


iz8  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Among  the  early  arrivals  was  Mrs.  John  Newman  King. 
Mrs.  King,  at  eighty,  held  her  own  as  the  person  of  chief 
social  importance  in  town.  The  Montgomerys  were  a  good 
second;  but  their  standing  was  based  merely  upon  long 
residence  and  wealth;  whereas  Mrs.  King  had  to  her  credit 
not  only  these  essential  elements  of  provincial  distinction, 
but  she  had  been  the  wife  of  a  United  States  Senator  in  the 
great  days  of  the  Civil  War.  She  had  known  Lincoln  and  all 
the  host  of  wartime  heroes.  Lincoln,  Grant,  and  Sherman 
had  been  her  guests  right  there  in  Montgomery — at  the  big 
place  with  the  elms  and  beeches,  all  looking  very  much  to- 
day as  it  did  in  the  stirring  sixties.  Mrs.  King  wore  a  lace 
cap  and  very  rustling  silk,  and  made  pretty  little  curtsies. 
She  talked  politics  to  gentlemen,  and  asked  women  about 
their  babies,  and  was  wholly  charming  with  young  girls. 

She  paused  before  Phil,  in  the  semicircle  that  included 
Amzi  and  his  sisters  with  their  husbands,  and  Tom  Kirk- 
wood. 

"My  dear  child,  on  this  proud  occasion  I  want  to  say  that 
the  day  you  fell  out  of  the  cherry  tree  in  my  back  yard 
and  broke  your  arm  and  came  into  the  house  to  get  a  sand 
tart  as  usual  before  going  home,  just  as  though  nothing 
had  happened,  I  loved  you  and  I  have  loved  you  ever 
since.  And  you  did  n't  cry  either! " 

"  I  did  n't  cry,  Aunt  Jane,  because  I  had  n't  sense  enough 
to  know  I  'd  been  hurt!" 

' '  You  were  always  a  child  of  spirit !  It's  spirit  that  counts 
in  this  life.  And  for  all  we  know  in  the  next  one,  too.  Don't 
you  let  all  these  relations  of  yours  spoil  you ;  I  've  known 
all  the  Montgomerys  ever  since  your  great-grandfather  came 
here  from  Virginia,  and  you  please  me  more  than  all  the  rest 
of  'em  put  together.  Do  you  hear  that,  Amzi!" 

Amzi  was  prepared  to  hear  just  this;  he  was  nigh  to  burst- 
ing with  pride,  for  Mrs.  King  was  the  great  lady  of  the  com- 
munity and  her  opinion  outweighed  that  of  any  dozen  other 
women  in  that  quarter  of  Indiana. 

Montgomery  is  just  a  comfortable,  folksy,  neighborly 


PHIL'S  PARTY  129 

town,  small  enough  to  make  hypocrisy  difficult  and  unneces- 
sary. In  a  company  like  this  that  marked  Phil's  entrance 
upon  the  great  little  world,  no  real  Montgomeryite  remem- 
bered who  had  the  most  money,  or  the  costliest  automobile, 
or  the  largest  house.  The  Madison  professors,  who  never  had 
any  hope  of  earning  more  than  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a  year 
if  they  lived  forever,  received  the  special  consideration  to 
which  they  were  entitled ;  and  Judge  Walters  might  be  hated 
by  most  of  the  lawyers  at  the  bar  for  his  sharp  admoni- 
tions from  the  bench,  but  they  all  respected  him  for  his 
sound  attainments  and  unquestioned  probity.  Among  others 
who  were  presented  to  Phil  (as  though  they  had  n't  known 
her  all  her  life!)  were  a  general  and  a  colonel  and  other 
officers  of  the  line,  including  Captain  Joshua  Wilson,  poet 
and  county  recorder,  and  the  editors  of  the  two  news- 
papers, and  lawyers  and  doctors  and  shopkeepers,  and,  yes, 
clerks  who  stood  behind  counters,  and  insurance  agents  and 
the  postmaster,  all  mingling  together,  they  and  their  chil- 
dren, in  the  most  democratic  fashion  imaginable. 

"We're  all  here,"  said  old  General  Wilks,  who  had  been 
a  tower  of  strength  in  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  "and 
we're  the  best  people  of  the  best  state  on  earth.  I  claim  the 
privilege  of  age,  Amzi,  to  kiss  the  prettiest  girl  in  Indiana." 

Beyond  question  the  arrival  of  the  William  Holtons,  with 
their  niece  and  nephew  from  Indianapolis,  caused  a  stir. 
They  were  among  the  late  comers,  and  the  curious  were 
waiting  to  witness  their  reception,  which  proved  to  be  dis- 
appointingly undramatic.  Their  welcome  in  no  wise  differed 
from  that  accorded  to  other  guests.  Every  one  said  that 
Charles  Holton  was  a  handsome  fellow,  and  his  sister  Ethel 
a  very  "nice"  though  rather  an  insipid  and  colorless  young 
woman.  It  was  generally  understood  that  Amzi's  sisters 
had  forced  his  hand.  The  conservatives  were  disposed  to 
excuse  Amzi  for  permitting  the  Holtons  to  be  invited;  but 
they  thought  the  Holtons  displayed  bad  taste  in  accepting. 
It  was  Phil's  party,  and  no  Holton  had  any  business  to  be 
connected  with  anything  that  concerned  Phil.  And  Tom 


i3o  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Kirkwood's  feelings  ought  to  have  been  considered,  said  his 
old  friends. 

"You  see,"  Charles  Holton  remarked  to  Phil,  when  he 
had  bowed  over  her  hand  with  a  good  deal  of  manner,  "I 
really  did  give  up  that  New  York  trip.  I  would  have  come 
back  from  China  to  see  you  in  that  gown!" 

The  musicians  (five  artists  from  the  capital,  and  not  the 
drummer  and  piano-thumper  usually  considered  adequate 
in  Montgomery  for  fraternity  and  class  functions)  now 
struck  up  the  first  number. 

"  Please  give  me  a  lot  of  dances,"  begged  Charles,  looking 
at  Phil's  card. 

' '  One !  Just  one ! "  replied  Phil. 

"You  are  bound  to  be  £  great  tyrant;  you  should  be 
merciful  to  your  humblest  subject." 

"I  have  n't  seen  any  of  the  humility  yet,"  she  laughed. 

Her  Uncle  Lawrence  Hastings  had  undertaken  to  manage 
the  dance  and  he  glided  away  with  her  to  the  strains  of  the 
first  waltz.  Hastings  boasted  a  velvet  collar  to  his  dress-coat, 
and  the  town  had  not  yet  ceased  to  marvel  that  fortune  had 
sent  to  its  door  a  gentleman  so  exquisite,  so  finished,  so  iden- 
tified with  the  most  fascinating  of  all  the  arts.  Hastings  had 
for  the  social  affairs  of  Montgomery  a  haughty  scorn.  It 
pained  him  greatly  to  be  asked  to  a  neighbor's  for  "supper," 
particularly  when  it  was  quite  likely  that  the  hostess  would 
herself  cook  and  serve  the  food ;  and  the  Fortnightly  Assem- 
bly, a  club  of  married  folk  that  met  to  dance  in  Masonic 
Hall,  was  to  him  the  tamest,  the  dullest  of  organizations, 
and  the  fact  that  his  brother-in-law  Waterman,  who  waltzed 
like  a  tipsy  barrel,  enjoyed  those  harmless  entertainments 
had  done  much  to  embitter  Hastings's  life.  Hastings  imag- 
ined himself  in  love  frequently;  the  Dramatic  Club  afforded 
opportunities  for  the  intense  flirtations  in  which  his  nature 
delighted.  The  parents  of  several  young  women  who  had 
taken  part  in  his  amateur  theatricals  had  been  concerned  for 
their  daughters'  safety.  And  now  Phil  interested  him  —  this 
new  Phil  in  city  clothes.  The  antics  of  Phil,  the  tomboy  of 


PHIL'S  PARTY  131 

Main  Street,  had  frequently  aroused  his  indignation ;  Phil,  a 
debutante  in  an  evening  gown  that  he  pronounced  a  creation 
of  the  gods,  was  worthy  of  serious  attention.  She  was,  he 
averred,  Hermione,  Rosalind,  Portia,  Beatrice,  combined  in 
one  perfect  flower  of  womanhood. 

"You  are  adorable,  Phil,"  he  sighed,  when  the  music 
ceased,  leaving  them  at  the  end  of  the  living-room.  "A  star 
danced  and  you  were  born." 

"That  is  very  sweet,  Lawraice,"  said  Phil;  "but  here 
comes  my  next  partner.  You  must  n't  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  young  men." 

The  very  lightest  laughing  emphasis  on  "young"  made  a 
stab  of  this.  He  posed  in  a  window  and  watched  her,  with 
his  gloomiest  Hamlet-like  air,  until  his  wife,  noting  this 
familiar  symptom,  interrupted  his  meditations  and  commis- 
sioned him  to  convoy  a  lady  with  an  ear-trumpet  to  the 
dining-room. 

The  party  was  going  merrily;  there  was  no  doubt  of  its 
complete  success.  Some  of  the  older  folk  remarked  upon  the 
fact  that  Phil  had  danced  with  Charles  Holton;  and  he 
danced  well.  There  was  a  grace  in  the  Holtons,  and  Charles 
was  endowed  with  the  family  friendliness.  He  made  a  point 
of  speaking  to  every  one  and  of  dancing  with  the  wall-flow- 
ers. It  was  noted  presently  that  he  saw  Mrs.  King  to  her 
carriage,  and  was  otherwise  regardful  of  the  old  folks. 

Phil  had  wondered  whether  Fred  Holton  would  come.  She 
had  hoped  he  would  when  she  asked  him  at  her  uncle's  farm, 
and  the  formal  invitation  had  been  dispatched  to  R.F.D.  7  as 
promised. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  Fred  appeared.  Phil  saw  him  over 
her  partner's  shoulder  talking  to  Amzi  in  the  hall  door,  and 
as  she  swept  by  him  in  the  dance  she  caught  his  eye.  Fred 
had  come  late  out  of  sheer  timidity,  but  he  had  arrived  at  a 
moment  when  the  gayety  was  at  its  height. 

His  diffidence  had  been  marked  even  in  his  college  days, 
and  he  was  unused  to  gatherings  of  this  kind.  The  proximity 
of  so  many  gay,  laughing  people  was  a  real  distress  to  him. 


1 32  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

And  if  the  other  members  of  his  family  were  able  to  overlook 
Jack  Helton's  great  sin,  Fred  was  acutely  conscious  of  it  now 
that  Phil  had  dawned  on  his  horizon.  He  had  no  sooner 
entered  the  house  than  he  regretted  his  temerity  in  coming; 
and  he  had  come  merely  to  see  Phil  —  that  was  the  whole  of 
it.  Nor  did  the  thought  of  this  now  contribute  to  his  comfort. 
His  glimpses  of  her  as  she  danced  up  and  down  the  room  with 
three  partners  in  turn  —  one  of  them  his  brother  —  set  his 
pulses  throbbing.  Phil  in  her  simple  white  gown —  this 
glowing,  joyous  woman  was  no  longer  of  his  world.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  his  heart  was  shot  through  with  jealousy. 
He  had  always  felt  Charles's  superiority,  but  with  a  younger 
brother's  loyal  admiration  he  had  not  resented  it.  He  re- 
sented it  now.  Fred  had  resurrected  a  cutaway  coat  for  this 
adventure,  and  he  was  acutely  aware  that  there  were  more 
dress-coats  in  evidence  than  he  had  imagined  were  avail- 
able in  Montgomery.  Amzi,  who  had  greeted  him  kindly, 
introduced  him  to  a  visiting  girl  whose  name  he  did  not 
catch,  and  he  was  doing  his  best  to  present  an  appearance 
of  ease  in  talking  to  her.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  he 
had  danced,  and  he  did  not  know  the  new  steps.  The  girl 
asked  him  why  he  did  not  invite  her  to  dance,  and  this  added 
to  his  discomfiture.  There  is  no  greater  unhappiness  than 
that  of  the  non-dancing  young  man  at  a  dancing-party.  He 
is  drawn  to  such  functions  by  a  kind  of  fascination ;  he  does 
not  understand  why  other  young  men  with  no  better  brains 
than  his  are  able  to  encircle  the  waists  of  the  most  beautiful 
girls  and  guide  them  through  difficult  evolutions.  He  vows 
that  he  will  immediately  submit  himself  to  instruction  and 
lift  himself  from  the  pits  of  torment. 

The  visiting  girl  was  carried  off,  evidently  to  her  relief  and 
delight,  by  a  strange  young  man  and  Fred  was  left  stranded 
in  an  alcove.  He  had  never  felt  so  lonesome  in  his  life.  Phil 
vanished  and  now  that  he  no  longer  enjoyed  even  his  earlier 
swift  glimpses  of  her,  his  dejection  increased.  He  was  medi- 
tating an  escape  when,  as  his  eyes  sought  her,  she  stood  sud- 
denly breathless  beside  him.  A  divinity  had  no  right  thus 


PHIL'S  PARTY  133 

to  appear  unheralded  before  mortal  eyes.  Fred  blushed 
furiously  and  put  out  his  hand  awkwardly.  Phil's  latest 
partner  begged  for  another  dance;  there  was  to  be  an  extra, 
he  pleaded ;  but  she  dismissed  him  with  a  wave  of  her  fan. 
There  had  been  high-school  dances  where  Phil  had  learned 
to  steel  her  heart  against  the  importunate. 

"Why  didn't  you  come  and  speak  to  me?"  demanded 
Phil  when  they  were  alone. 

"  I  was  just  waiting  for  a  chance.  I  did  n't  want  to  bother 
you." 

"Well,  you  '11  have  to  do  better  than  this !  You  're  the  only 
person  in  the  house  who  has  n't  spoken  to  me!  But  it  was 
nice  of  you  to  come :  it  must  be  a  trouble  to  come  to  town  at 
night  when  you  live  so  far."  She  sat  down  in  the  window- 
seat  and  bade  him  do  likewise.  "You  did  see  Uncle  Amy, 
did  n't  you?  I  saw  you  talking  to  him ;  but  you  ought  to  have 
come  earlier  while  there  was  a  receiving-line  ready  for  you. 
Now  you'll  have  to  look  around  for  everybody;  you  have  to 
speak  to  my  three  aunts  and  all  my  uncles  and  my  father." 

"I'll  be  glad  to,"  declared  Fred;  and  then  realizing  the 
absurdity  of  his  fervor  in  consenting  to  speak  to  the  aunts 
and  uncles  he  laughed. 

"You're  scared,"  said  Phil.  "And  if  you  won't  tell  any- 
body I  'm  a  little  bit  scared  myself,  just  because  everybody 
tells  me  how  grown-up  I  am." 

The  music  struck  up  and  a  young  cavalier  —  a  college 
senior,  who  had  worshiped  Phil  since  his  freshman  year  — 
came  to  say  that  it  was  his  dance.  She  told  him  that  she  was 
tired  and  would  have  to  be  excused.  He  wished  to  debate 
the  question,  but  she  closed  the  incident  promptly  and  effec- 
tively. 

"I'm  busy  talking  to  Mr.  Hoi  ton;  and  I  can  see  you  any 
time,  Walter." 

Walter  departed  crestfallen ;  she  treated  him  as  though  he 
were  still  a  freshman.  He  was  wearing  his  first  dress-coat  and 
the  tallest  collar  he  could  buy,  and  it  was  humiliating  to  be 
called  Walter  and  sent  away  by  a  girl  who  preferred  to  talk 


134  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

to  a  rustic-looking  person  in  a  cutaway  coat  and  a  turnover 
collar  with  a  four-in-hand  tie. 

Phil  carried  Fred  off  for  a  tour  of  the  rooms,  pausing  to 
introduce  him  to  her  father  and  to  the  three  aunts,  to  whom 
she  said  how  kind  it  was  of  Fred  to  come;  that  he  was  the 
only  person  she  had  personally  asked  to  the  party.  And  it 
was  just  like  Phil,  for  years  the  loyal  protector  of  all  the  dis- 
cards among  the  cats  and  dogs  in  town,  to  choose  a  clod- 
hopper for  special  attention.  Kirkwood,  who  had  forgotten 
Fred's  existence,  greeted  him  in  his  pleasant  but  rather 
absent  way. 

The  torrid  Wabash  Valley  summers  of  many  years  had 
not  greatly  modified  the  chill  in  Kirkwood 's  New  England 
blood,  and  the  isolation  in  which  he  had  lived  so  long  had 
deepened  his  reserve.  The  scholarly  stamp  had  not  been 
effaced  by  his  abandonment  of  the  academic  life,  and  many 
of  his  fellow-townsmen  still  addressed  him  as  Professor  Kirk- 
wood. His  joy  to-night  lay  in  Phil's  happiness;  his  heart 
warmed  to  the  terms  of  praise  in  which  every  one  spoke  of 
her.  It  touched  his  humor  that  his  daughter  was  in  some 
degree  a  public  character.  Her  escapades  in  childhood  and 
youth  had  endeared  her  to  the  community.  In  her  battles 
with  the  aunts  public  sympathy  had  been  pretty  generally 
with  Phil.  "Otherwise  Phyllis — ? "  Many  a  smile  had  been 
occasioned  by  that  question.  Tom  Kirkwood  knew  all  this 
and  was  happy  and  grateful.  He  had  not  attended  a  large 
gathering  of  his  fellow-townfolk  since  his  wife  left  him, 
so  that  his  daughter's  coming-out  was  an  event  of  double 
significance  for  him. 

The  aunts  were  somewhat  critical  of  the  arrangements  for 
refreshing  the  guests.  Amzi,  refusing  to  heed  their  sugges- 
tions that  the  catering  be  entrusted  to  an  Indianapolis  firm, 
had  arranged  everything  himself.  The  cakes  were  according 
to  the  best  recipes  knowrt  at  98  Buckeye  Lane,  and  Rose  and 
Nan  were  there,  assisting,  by  Amzi's  special  command. 
During  the  evening  he  consulted  first  one  and  then  the  other; 
and  when  his  sisters  asked  icily  for  instructions,  he  told  them 


PHIL'S  PARTY  135 

to  look  handsome  and  keep  cheerful.  This  was  unbrotherly, 
of  course,  but  Amzi  was  supremely  happy. 

The  older  people  had  been  served  in  the  dining-room  and 
many  of  them  had  already  gone  or  were  now  taking  leave, 
and  the  waiters  were  distributing  little  tables  for  the  young 
people. 

"Let  me  see,  you  were  to  have  refreshments  with  me,  Miss 
Kirkwood;  I  have  a  table  in  the  drawing-room  alcove  all 
ready,"  said  Charles  Hoi  ton  to  Phil  as  she  still  stood  talking 
to  Fred  in  the  hall.  Fred  had  been  wondering  just  what  his 
own  responsibilities  were  in  the  matter.  Charles  had  greeted 
him  affably;  but  Fred's  diffidence  deepened  in  his  brother's 
presence:  Charles  was  a  master  of  the  social  arts,  whereas 
Fred  had  only  instinctive  good-breeding  to  guide  him.  Fred 
was  about  to  move  away,  but  Phil  detained  him. 

"Is  n't  it  curious  that  you  two  brothers  should  have  the 
same  idea,"  said  Phil  artlessly.  "It's  really  remarkable! 
But  I  think"  —  and  she  turned  gravely  to  Fred  —  "I  think, 
as  long  as  you  came  too  late  for  a  dance  with  me,  I  shall  eat 
my  piece  of  pie  with  you  —  and  I  think  right  up  there  on  the 
stairs  would  be  an  excellent  place  to  sit!" 

Fred,  radiant  at  the  great  kindness  of  this,  went  off  to 
bring  the  salad  for  which  she  declared  she  was  perishing. 
Charles  looked  at  her  with  an  amused  smile  on  his  face. 

"You're  a  brick!  It's  mighty  fine  of  you  to  be  so  nice  to 
Fred.  Dear  old  Fred!" 

Phil  frowned. 

"Why  do  you  speak  of  your  brother  in  that  way?" 

"How  did  I  speak  of  him?" 

"Oh,  as  if  he  were  somebody  to  be  sorry  for!" 

"Oh,  you  misunderstood  me!  I  was  merely  pleased  that 
you  were  being  nice  to  him.  Fred  would  never  have  thought 
of  asking  you  to  sit  on  the  stairs  with  him  —  I  knew  that; 
it  was  just  like  you  to  save  him  from  embarrassment." 

"Oh!" 

He  was  piqued  by  the  connotations  suggested  by  Phil's 
"Oh ! "  Phil  was  not  only  stunningly  pretty, but  she  had  wits. 


136  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

It  was  his  way  to  impress  girls  he  met,  and  there  was  no  time 
for  dallying  now ;  Fred  would  return  in  a  moment  and  take 
Phil  away  from  him.  He  intended  to  see  a  great  deal  of  her 
hereafter,  and  he  believed  that  in  the  opening  skirmishes  of 
a  flirtation  a  bold  shot  counts  double.  Phil  waved  her 
hand  in  the  direction  of  the  table  where  the  Bartletts,  her 
father,  and  Amzi  were  seating  themselves,  and  when  she 
looked  round  at  Holton,  she  found  his  eyes  bent  upon  her 
with  a  fair  imitation  of  wistfulness  and  longing  which  in  pre- 
vious encounters  of  this  sort  he  had  found  effective. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  realize  how  beautiful  you  are.  I  Ve 
been  over  the  world  a  good  deal  and  there 's  no  one  anywhere 
who  touches  you.  There  are  lots  of  nice  and  pretty  girls,  of 
course,  but  you  are  different;  you  are  a  beautiful  woman! 
To  see  you  like  this  is  to  know  for  the  first  time  what  beauty 
is.  And  I  know — I  appreciate  the  beautiful  soul  there  is  in 
you  —  that  shines  out  of  your  eyes!"  His  voice  was  low, 
and  a  little  tremulous.  "  I  want  the  chance  to  fight  for  you! 
From  that  first  moment  I  saw  you  in  your  father's  office  I 
have  thought  of  nothing  but  you.  That 's  why  I  came  — 
why  I  gave  up  business  of  real  importance  to  come.  And  I 
shall  come  again  and  again,  until  you  tell  me  I  may  come  no 
longer." 

His  voice  seemed  to  break  with  the  stress  of  deep  feeling. 
Phil  listened,  first  in  surprise  that  yielded  perhaps  to  fear, 
and  then  her  head  bent  and  she  looked  down  at  her  fan 
which  she  slowly  opened  and  shut.  She  did  not  lift  her  eyes 
until  she  was  sure  he  had  finished. 

"By  the  way,"  she  remarked,  with  studied  carelessness, 
as  she  continued  to  play  with  her  fan,  "I  wish  I  could 
quote  things  offhand  like  that.  It  must  be  fine  to  have  such 
a  memory !  Let  me  see,  what  is  that  from  —  '  The  Prisoner  of 
Zenda' or  'How  Lulu  Came  to  Logansport'?  Oh!"  (with 
sudden  animation  as  Fred  came  bearing  two  plates)  "there's 
my  young  life-saver  now!"  Then  to  Charles  again:  "Well, 
I  shall  certainly  look  up  that  quotation.  It  was  ever  so 
nice  of  you  to  remind  me  of  it!" 


PHIL'S  PARTY  137 

Holton  struck  his  gloved  hands  together  smartly  in  his 
irritation  and  turned  away.  Phil  was  undoubtedly  different ; 
but  she  was  not  through  yet.  She  called  him  back,  one  foot 
on  the  stair,  and  said  in  a  confidential  tone,  "That  nice  little 
Orbison  girl,  —  the  blonde  one,  I  mean,  who's  visiting  here 
from  Elwood,  —  I  wish  you'd  take  good  care  of  her;  I  'm 
afraid  she  isn't  having  a  wildly  exciting  time." 

"This  is  what  I  call  being  real  comfortable  and  cozy,  "she 
remarked  to  Fred  as  they  disposed  themselves  on  one  of  the 
lower  steps. 

Below  and  near  at  hand  were  most  of  the  members  of  her 
family.  She  saw  from  the  countenances  of  the  three  aunts 
that  they  were  displeased  with  her,  but  the  consciousness  of 
this  did  not  spoil  life  for  her.  She  humanly  enjoyed  their  dis- 
comfiture, knowing  that  it  was  based  upon  the  dinginess  of 
Fred's  clothes  and  prospects.  Their  new  broad  tolerance  of 
the  Hoi  tons  did  not  cover  the  tragic  implications  of  Fred's 
raiment.  They  meant  to  protect  Phil  in  every  way,  and  yet 
there  was  ground  for  despair  when  she  chose  the  most  un- 
desirable young  man  in  the  county  to  sit  with  in  the  inti- 
macy of  the  refreshment  hour  at  her  own  coming-out.  Mrs. 
Fosdick  leaned  back  from  her  table  to  ask  Amzi  in  an  angry 
whisper  what  he  meant  by  allowing  Phil  to  invite  Fred 
Holton  to  her  party. 

"What's  that?  Allow  her!  I  did  n't  allow  her!  Nobody 
allows  Phil!  Thunder!"  And  then,  after  he  had  picked  up 
his  fallen  napkin,  he  turned  to  add:  "There's  nothing  the 
matter  with  Fred  that  I  know  of!" 

The  comparative  quiet  that  now  reigned  was  much  more 
to  Fred's  liking  than  the  gayety  of  the  dance.  Phil  treated 
their  companionship  as  a  matter  of  course  and  his  timidity 
and  restraint  vanished.  Nothing  in  his  experience  had  ever 
been  so  agreeable  and  stimulating  as  this.  That  Phil,  of  all 
humankind,  should  have  made  this  possible  was  to  him 
inexplicable.  It  could  not  be  that  when  this  was  over,  he 
should  be  hurled  back  to  Stop  7. 

Phil,  who  had  disposed  of  Charles's  confession  of  adora- 


i38  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

tion  to  her  own  satisfaction,  now  seemed  bent  upon  winning 
some  praise  from  the  halting  tongue  of  Charles's  brother.  To 
make  conversation  she  directed  attention  to  her  new  trinket, 
holding  out  the  chain  for  Fred  to  admire  the  pearls.  In 
doing  this  he  saw  the  pulse  throbbing  in  her  slim  throat,  and 
this  in  itself  was  disturbing.  Her  nearness  there  on  the  stair- 
way affected  him  even  more  than  on  the  orchard  slope  where 
he  had  experienced  similar  agitations.  When  she  laughed  he 
noticed  an  irregularity  in  one  of  her  white  teeth ;  and  there 
was  a  tiny  mole  on  her  neck,  just  below  her  left  ear.  He  did 
not  know  why  he  saw  these  things,  or  why  seeing  them  in- 
creased his  awe.  It  seemed  wonderful  that  she  could  so  easily 
slip  her  hands  out  of  her  gloves  without  drawing  the  long 
gauntlets  from  her  arms.  Farther  and  farther  receded  the 
Phil  of  the  kitchen  apron  with  whom  he  had  bargained  for 
the  sale  of  the  saddest  apples  that  had  ever  been  brought  to 
Montgomery  by  a  self-respecting  farmer!  When  her  father 
came  to  the  stair-rail  to  ask  if  she  felt  a  draft  from  the  upper 
windows,  Fred  was  shaken  with  fear;  the  thought  that  the 
airs  of  heaven  might  visit  affliction  upon  this  brown-haired 
and  brown-eyed  marvel  was  at  once  a  grief  to  him.  He  felt 
the  world  rock  at  the  bare  thought  of  any  harm  ever  coming 
to  her. 

"As  if,"  said  Phil,  when  her  father  had  been  reassured, 
"the  likes  of  me  could  take  cold.  What  do  you  do  all  day  on 
a  farm  in  winter  weather?" 

"Let  me  see;  I  chopped  wood,  this  morning;  and  I'd 
bought  some  corn  of  Perry  —  that  is,  of  your  uncle  —  and 
went  over  with  the  wagon  to  get  it;  and  this  afternoon  I 
brought  the  wood  I  had  chopped  to  the  woodshed ;  and  then 
I  went  out  to  look  at  my  wheatfield,  and  almost  bought  a 
cow  of  another  neighbor  —  but  did  n't  quite  make  a  bargain. 
And  then  I  began  to  get  ready  to  come  to  your  party." 

"You  must  have  worked  awfully  hard  to  get  ready," 
said  Phil,  "for  you  were  late  getting  here." 

"Well,  I  loafed  around  outside  for  an  hour  or  so  before  I 
came  in,"' and  he  smiled  ruefully.  "  I  'm  not  used  to  parties." 


PHIL'S  PARTY  139 

"You  seem  to  get  on  pretty  well,"  said  Phil  reassuringly. 

One  of  the  waiters  had  brought  them  ice-cream  and  cake, 
and  after  she  had  tasted  the  cake  Phil  caught  Rose  Bartlett's 
eye  and  expressed  ecstasy  and  gratitude  by  a  lifting  of  the 
head,  a  closing  of  the  eyes,  a  swift  folding  of  the  hands. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  amuse  yourself  out  there  by  your- 
self all  winter?"  she  remarked  to  Fred;  "I  should  n't  think 
there  would  be  much  to  do!" 

"Oh,  there  won't  be  any  trouble  about  that!  I've  got 
plenty  to  do  and  then  I  want  to  do  some  studying,  too.  I  'm 
going  up  to  the  University  in  January  to  hear  lectures  — 
farming  and  stock-raising  and  things  like  that.  Perry  has 
put  me  up  to  it.  And  then  in  between  times  I  want  to  get 
acquainted  with  the  neighbors;  they're  all  mighty  nice 
people  and  kind  and  friendly.  That  sounds  pretty  stupid, 
does  n't  it?" 

"Well,  it  sounds  wholesome  if  not  wildly  exciting.  I've 
lost  my  job.  They  took  my  kitchen  away  from  me  just  as  I 
was  getting  started;  and  I  haven't  anything  much  to  do  — 
except  being  sociable." 

"Of  course,  you've  come  out  now,  and  you'll  be  going  to 
receptions  and  dances  all  the  time." 

"I  can't  exactly  cry  O  joy,  O  joy  at  the  thought  of  it. 
There  must  have  been  gypsies  in  my  family  somewhere. 
You  '11  think  I  'm  crazy,  but  I  'd  like  to  go  out  right  now  and 
run  a  mile.  But  there  will  be  skating  afterwhile;  and  snow- 
storms to  go  walking  in.  I  like  walking  in  snowstorms,  — 
the  blustering  kind  where  you  can't  see  and  go  plunking 
into  fences." 

Fred  agreed  to  this;  he  readily  visualized  Phil  tramping 
'cross-country  in  snowstorms.  "It's  an  awful  thing,"  Phil 
resumed,  "to  have  to  be  respectable.  Aunt  Kate  wants  to 
go  South  this  winter  and  take  me  with  her.  But  that  would 
mean  being  shut  up  in  a  hotel.  If  daddy  did  n't  have  to 
work,  I  'd  make  him  take  me  to  California  where  we  could 
get  a  wagon  and  just  keep  camping.  Camping  out  is  the 
most  fun  there  is  in  this  world.  There 's  a  nice  wooziness  in 


1 4o  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

waking  up  at  night  and  hearing  an  owl  right  over  your  head ; 
and  there  are  the  weather  changes,  when  you  go  to  sleep 
with  the  stars  shining  and  wake  up  and  hear  the  rain  slap- 
ping the  tent.  And  when  you  Ve  gone  for  a  long  tramp  and 
come  back  tired  and  wet  and  hungry,  and  sit  and  talk  about 
things  awhile  and  then  tumble  into  bed  and  get  up  in  the 
morning  to  do  it  all  over  again  — !  Does  that  sound  perfectly 
wild?  If  it  does,  then  I  'm  crazy,  for  that's  the  kind  of  thing 
I  like  —  not  to  talk  about  it  at  parties  in  my  best  clothes, 
but  to  go  out  and  do  it  and  keep  on  doing  it  forever  and 
ever." 

She  put  the  last  crumb  of  the  Bartlett  cake  into  her  mouth 
meditatively. 

"  I  like  the  outdoors,  too,"  said  Fred,  for  whom  this  state- 
ment of  her  likings  momentarily  humanized  his  goddess  and 
brought  her  within  the  range  of  his  understanding.  "The 
earth  is  a  good  old  earth.  There  are  no  jars  in  the  way  she 
does  her  business.  There's  something  that  makes  me  feel 
sort  o'  funny  inside  when  I  go  out  now  and  see  that  little 
wheat- patch  of  mine,  and  know  that  the  snow  is  going  to 
cover  it,  and  that  with  any  kind  of  good  luck  it 's  going  to 
live  right  through  the  cold  and  come  to  harvest  next  summer. 
And  it  gives  me  a  queer  feeling,  and  always  did,  the  way  it  all 
goes  on  —  and  has  always  gone  on  since  the  beginning  of 
the  world.  When  I  was  a  little  boy  here  in  Montgomery  and 
went  to  Center  Church  Sunday-School,  the  most  interesting 
things  in  the  Bible  were  about  those  Old  Testament  people, 
raising  cattle  and  tending  flocks  and  farming  just  like  the 
people  right  here  at  home.  I  suppose  it 's  a  feeling  like  that 
I  always  had  that  makes  me  want  to  be  a  farmer  and  live 
close  to  the  ground — that  and  wanting  to  earn  a  living,"  he 
concluded,  smiling.  He  was  astonished  at  his  own  speech, 
which  had  expressed  ideas  that  had  never  crystallized  in  his 
mind  before. 

"That,"  said  Phil,  "  is  what  poetry  is  —  feeling  like  that." 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  Fred  assented. 

The  waiters  were  relieving  the  guests  of  their  burdens, 


PHIL'S  PARTY  Hi 

and  carrying  out  the  tables,  and  there  was  a  stir  through  the 
house  as  the  musicians  took  their  places.  Phil  rose  and 
nodded  to  a  young  gentleman  who  sought  her  for  the  next 
dance. 

"I've  got  to  go,"  said  Fred.  "I'll  just  about  catch  my 
last  car.  It 's  been  fine  to  be  here.  And  I  've  enjoyed  talking 
to  you.  It  was  mighty  kind  of  you  to  sit  up  here  with  me.  I 
shall  always  remember  it." 

Phil  was  drawing  on  her  gloves,  looking  down  upon  the 
hall  through  which  the  guests  from  the  other  rooms  were 
now  passing. 

At  this  moment  the  outer  hall  door  opened  cautiously  and 
a  man  stepped  inside,  closed  it  noisily,  and  placed  his  back 
against  it  with  an  air  of  defiance.  He  stood  blinking  in  the 
strong  light,  moving  his  head  from  side  to  side  as  though  in 
the  effort  to  summon  speech.  The  waiter  who  had  been  sta- 
tioned at  the  door  was  helping  to  clear  away  the  tables,  but 
he  hurried  forward  and  began  directing  this  latest  guest 
where  to  leave  his.  wraps.  The  stranger  shook  his  head  pro- 
testingly.  It  was  quite  evident  that  he  was  intoxicated.  He 
wore  a  long  overcoat  spattered  with  mud,  and  there  was  a 
dent  in  the  derby  hat  he  removed  with  elaborate  care  and 
then  swung  at  arm's  length.  The  doorways  filled.  Some- 
thing not  down  in  the  programme  was  occurring.  A  sudden 
hush  fell  upon  the  house;  whispered  inquiries  as  to  the 
identity  of  the  stranger,  who  stood  drunkenly  turning  his 
gaze  from  left  to  right,  passed  guardedly  from  lip  to  lip. 
Amzi,  Kirkwood,  and  the  Bartletts  remained  near  where 
they  had  risen  from  their  table,  sharing  the  general  conster- 
nation. Amzi  was  the  first  to  recover;  he  took  a  step  toward 
the  door,  but  paused  as  the  man  began  to  speak  slowly  and 
drunkenly.  He  seemed  annoyed  by  his  inability  to  control 
his  tongue  and  his  voice  rose  raspingly. 

"  'M  looking  for  my  bruf  —  my  bruf  —  my  brother.  Tole 
me  'tis  h-h  —  'tis  house  he  was  't  Amzi's  to  party.  Holtons 
and  Mungummer  —  Montgomerys  all  good  fr'ens  now. 
Bes'  ole  fam'lies  in  town.  'Pologize  for  coming  s'  late;  no 


H2  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

time  change  my  clothes;  disgraceful  —  puf-puf-perfectly 
disgraceful,  that's  whasmasser.  Want  t'  see  Will.  Anybody 
here  seen  Will?  Don'  tell  me  Will 's  gone  home  s'  early;  mos' 
unfashion'ble;  mos'  disgracefully  unfashion'ble ! " 

Jack  Holton  had  come  back,  and  this  was  the  manner  of 
his  coming.  To  most  of  those  who  saw  him  that  night  tip- 
sily  planted  against  the  door  of  the  old  Montgomery  house, 
he  was  an  entire  stranger,  so  long  had  been  his  exile ;  but  to 
Amzi,  to  Tom  Kirkwood,  to  Rose  and  Nan  Bartlett  there 
came  at  the  instant  of  identification  a  thronging  weight  of 
memories.  Some  one  had  called  William  Holton  —  he  was 
discussing  local  business  prospects  with  Paul  Fosdick  —  and 
the  crowd  about  the  drawing-room  door  made  way  for  him. 
His  nephew  Charles  was  at  his  elbow. 

"  Bring  my  coat  and  hat  to  the  back  door,  Charlie,  and  see 
that  your  Aunt  Nellie  gets  home,"  he  said;  and  people  spoke 
admiringly  afterward  of  the  composure  with  which  he  met 
the  situation. 

Amzi  was  advancing  toward  the  uninvited  guest  and  Wil- 
liam turned  to  him. 

"This  is  unpardonable,  Mr.  Montgomery,  but  I  want  you 
to  know  that  I  could  n't  have  foreseen  it.  I  am  very  sorry. 
Good-night!" 

Preceded  by  Amzi,  William  led  his  brother,  not  without 
difficulty,  through  the  hall  to  the  dining-room  and  into  the 
kitchen,  where  Charles  joined  him  in  a  moment  by  way  of 
the  back  stairs. 

"It's  Uncle  Jack,  is  it?"  Charles  asked,  looking  at  the 
tall  figure  with  a  curiosity  that  was  unfeigned. 

"M"  dear  boy,  I  s'pose  's  possible  I  'm  your  Ion  —  Ion  — 
long  los'  uncle;  but  I  haven't  zonner  —  haven't  zonner 
your  acquaintance.  Want  to  see  Will.  Got  prodigal  on 
zands,  Will  has.  Seems  t'ave  come  back  mos'  'no  —  mos' 
'nopportune  'casion.  All  right,  ole  man:  jus'  give  me  y'  arm 
and  I  get  'long  mos'  com-for-ble,  mos'  comfort-o-ble,"  he 
ended  with  a  leer  of  triumph  at  having  achieved  the  vowel. 

Charles  helped  him  down  the  steps  to  the  walk  and  then 


PHIL'S  PARTY  143 

returned  to  the  house.  In  his  unfamiliarity  with  its  arrange- 
ments, he  opened  by  mistake  the  door  that  led  to  a  little 
den  where  Amzi  liked  to  read  and  smoke.  There  quite  alone 
stood  Tom  Kirkwood,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  staring  into 
the  coal-fire  of  the  grate.  Charles  muttered  an  apology  and 
hastily  closed  the  door. 

Through  the  house  rang  the  strains  of  a  waltz,  and  the 
dance  went  on. 


CHAPTER  XI 

BROTHERS 

WILLIAM  HOLT  ON  spoke  the  truth  to  Amzi  when  he  said 
that  he  had  had  no  warning  of  his  brother's  return.  William, 
with  all  his  apparent  prosperity,  was  not  without  his 
troubles,  and  he  took  it  unkindly  that  this  brother,  who 
for  sixteen  years  had  kept  out  of  the  way,  should  have 
chosen  so  unfortunate  a  moment  for  reintroducing  himself 
to  his  native  town.  He  had  not  set  eyes  on  Jack  since  his 
flight  with  Lois  Kirkwood,  though  Samuel  had  visited  the 
Western  coast  several  times  on  business  errands  and  had 
kept  in  touch  with  him.  William  had  been  glad  enough  to 
forget  Jack's  existence,  particularly  as  the  reports  that  had 
reached  him  —  even  those  brought  back  by  the  sanguine 
Samuel  —  had  been  far  from  reassuring  as  to  Jack's  status 
in  Seattle. 

Jack's  return  meant  a  recrudescence  of  wounds  which 
time  had  seemingly  healed,  with  resulting  discomforts  that 
might  have  far-reaching  consequences.  Mrs.  William  had  a 
pride  of  her  own,  and  it  was  unjust  to  her  for  a  man  who  had 
so  shocked  the  moral  sensibilities  of  the  town  to  thrust  him- 
self back  upon  his  family,  especially  when  he  had  chosen  to 
present  himself  first  at  the  domicile  of  the  head  of  a  house 
against  which  he  had  so  grossly  sinned. 

William  took  Jack  home  and  put  him  to  bed;  and  when 
Charles  followed  a  little  later  with  Mrs.  Holton,  the  prodigal 
slept  the  sleep  of  weary  intoxication  in  her  guest  chamber. 

The  next  day  the  town  buzzed,  and  the  buzzing  was  loud 
enough  to  make  itself  heard  at  the  desk  of  the  president  of 
the  First  National  Bank.  William  had  left  word  at  home 
that  when  Jack  came  to  himself,  he  was  to  be  dispatched  to 
the  bank  forthwith.  He  meant  to  deal  with  this  unwelcome 


BROTHERS  H5 

pilgrim  upon  a  business  basis  strictly,  without  any  softening 
domestic  influences.  The  honor  of  the  Holtons  was  touched 
nearly  and  Jack  must  be  got  rid  of.  Mrs.  Holton  telephoned 
at  eleven  o'clock  that  Jack  was  on  his  way  downtown,  and 
William  was  prepared  for  the  interview  when  his  brother  ( 
strolled  in  with  something  of  his  old  jauntiness. 

The  door  of  the  directors'  room  closed  upon  them.  The 
word  passed  along  Main  Street  that  Jack  and  William  were 
closeted  in  the  bank.  Phil,  walking  downtown  on  an  errand, 
with  the  happiness  of  her  party  still  in  her  eyes,  was  not 
without  her  sense  of  the  situation.  At  the  breakfast-table 
her  father,  deeply  preoccupied,  had  brought  himself  with  an 
effort  to  review  the  happier  events  of  the  party.  Knowing 
what  was  in  his  mind  Phil  mentioned  the  untoward  misfor- 
tune that  had  cast  Jack  Holton  of  all  men  upon  the  threshold 
of  her  uncle's  house. 

"It  really  didn't  make  any  difference,  daddy,  —  that 
man's  coming.  Everybody  tried  to  forget  it.  And  some  of 
the  young  people  did  n't  know  him  at  all." 

"No;  it  did  n't  matter,  Phil.  Your  Uncle  Amzi  is  a  fine 
gentleman :  I  never  fully  appreciated  his  goodness  and  gen- 
erosity as  much  as  I  did  last  night." 

Phil  did  not  know  that  Amzi  had  sought  Kirkwood  in  the 
den  where  the  lawyer  had  gone  to  take  counsel  with  himself, 
and  had  blown  himself  purple  in  the  face  in  his  kind  efforts 
to  make  light  of  the  incident.  The  two  men  had  never  been 
drawn  closer  together  in  their  lives  than  in  that  meeting. 

"It  was  n't  Uncle  Amy's  fault  that  the  William  Holtons 
were  asked  to  the  party;  I  think  it  was  Aunt  Kate  who 
started  that.  And  when  I  heard  of  it,  it  was  all  over  and 
the  invitations  had  been  sent,"  Phil  said. 

Kirkwood  repeated  his  assurance  that  it  made  no  differ- 
ence in  any  way.  And  Phil  remembered  for  a  long  time  a 
certain  light  in  his  gentle,  candid  eyes  as  he  said :  — 

"We  get  over  most  of  our  troubles  in  this  world,  Phil ;  and 
I  want  you  to  know  that  that  particular  thing  does  n't  hurt 
me  any  more.  Only  it  was  a  shock;  the  man  had  aged  so 


146  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

and  his  condition  and  the  suddenness  of  it —  But  it's 
all  over  and  it  did  n't  spoil  the  party ;  that 's  the  main 
thing." 

Phil  was  immensely  relieved,  for  she  knew  that  her  father 
told  the  truth. 

Jack  Holton  greeted  a  number  of  old  friends  on  his  way 
to  the  bank,  but  the  president  emeritus  of  the  college  cut 
him.  The  cold  stare  he  received  from  this  old  man,  who 
had  been  president  of  Madison  College  for  forty  years, 
expressed  a  contempt  that  hurt.  Mrs.  King,  in  whose  yard 
he  had  played  as  a  boy,  looked  over  his  head,  though  he  was 
confident  she  knew  him.  His  nostrils  caught  no  scent  of 
roast  veal  in  the  familiar  streets.  At  his  brother's  house  his 
sister-in-law,  whom  he  had  never  seen,  had  not  appeared 
when  he  went  down  for  his  breakfast. 

He  followed  his  brother  into  the  directors'  room  in  a 
defiant  humor.  They  took  account  of  each  other  with  a 
frank  curiosity  begotten  of  their  long  separation. 

"You  haven't  changed  much,  Will.  You've  grown  a 
little  stouter  than  father  did,  but  dear  old  Sam  never  lost  his 
shape,  and  you  're  like  him." 

There  was  little  resemblance  between  the  two  men. 
William's  face,  clean-shaven  save  for  a  mustache,  showed 
few  lines,  though  his  hair  had  whitened  at  the  temples. 
Jack's  hair  and  mustache  were  well  sprinkled  with  gray,  and 
his  crown  was  bald.  He  fingered  a  paper-weight  on  the 
table  nervously.  A  history  of  dissipation  was  written  legibly 
in  his  eyes  and  he  had  a  disconcerting  way  of  jerking  his 
head. 

"Damn  it  all!  I  guess  you're  not  tickled  to  death  to  see 
me.  And  I  need  hardly  say  that  if  I  had  n't  been  drunk,  I 
would  n't  have  turned  up  at  old  Amzi's  on  the  night  of  that 
kid's  coming-out  party.  Drunk  when  I  struck  town  — 
had  n't  been  feeling  well,  and  fell  in  with  some  old  friends  at 
Indianapolis  and  filled  up.  Hope  you'll  overlook  my  little 
indiscretions.  Reckon  the  town  would  have  found  out  I  was 
here  soon  enough  and  there 's  nothing  like  coming  right  out  in 


BROTHERS  H7 

the  open.  When  they  told  me  at  your  house  you  were  at 
Amzi's,  I  could  n't  believe  it  and  I  was  just  drunk  enough 
to  want  to  investigate." 

William  muttered  something  that  Jack  preferred  to 
ignore. 

"Well,  I  wasn't  so  drunk  I  didn't  take  in  Kirkwood. 
Old  Tom  has  held  his  own  pretty  well;  but  he's  the  type 
Time  don't  batter  much.  I'd  thought  a  good  deal  about 
what  might  happen  if  we  ever  met  —  had  rather  figured  on 
a  little  pistol  work ;  but  Lord !  it 's  funny  how  damned  soon 
we  get  over  these  things.  Trifles,  Will,  trifles — bubbles  of 
human  experience  that  vanish  in  thin  air.  Damn  it  all! 
life's  a  queer  business.  We  put  our  faith  in  women  and 
they're  a  bad  investment,  damned  uncertain  and  devilish 
hard  to  please,  and  shake  you  when  the  night  falleth  and  you 
need  a  prop  to  lean  on.  By  the  way,  your  own  consort 
ducked  me  this  morning ;  I  had  to  have  breakfast  alone,  with 
only  one  of  Africa's  haughty  daughters  to  break  my  eggs.  I 
hope  madam  your  wife  is  well.  By  the  way,  has  she  given 
any  hostages  to  fortune?  Thought  I  had  n't  heard  of  it. 
You  've  treated  me  in  a  hell  of  a  little  brotherly  fashion,  Will. 
If  it  had  n't  been  for  Sam,  who  was  a  true  sport  if  I  know 
one,  I  should  n't  have  known  anything  about  you,  dead  or 
alive." 

William  had  listened  with  an  almost  imperceptible  frown 
while  he  minutely  studied  his  brother.  The  items  he  col- 
lected were  not  calculated  to  inspire  confidence  or  quicken 
fraternal  feeling.  Jack,  whom  he  remembered  as  fastidious 
in  old  times,  was  sadly  crumpled.  The  cuffs  of  his  colored 
shirt  were  frayed ;  there  were  spots  on  his  tie,  and  his  clothes 
looked  as  though  they  had  been  slept  in.  The  lining  of  the 
ulster  he  had  thrown  across  a  chair  had  been  patched,  and 
threads  hung  where  his  legs  had  rubbed  it.  The  impressions 
reflected  in  William's  eyes  were  increasingly  disagreeable 
ones,  as  he  diagnosed  moral,  physical,  and  financial  decrepi- 
tude. It  was  nothing  short  of  impudence  on  Jack's  part  to 
intrude  himself  upon  the  town  and  upon  his  family.  It  was 


i48  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

with  a  slight  sneer  that  William  replied  to  his  brother's  long 
speech  by  ejaculating:  — 

"Well,  I  like  your  nerve!  You  come  back  drunk  just 
when  the  community  had  begun  to  forget  you,  and  wander 
into  the  last  house  in  the  world  where  you  ought  to  show 
yourself.  Your  being  drunk  does  n't  excuse  you.  Why 
did  n't  you  tell  me  you  were  coming?" 

Jack  smiled  ironically. 

"Suppose  you  climb  off  your  high  horse  for  a  little  bit. 
If  I  have  to  get  a  permit  from  my  only  brother  to  come  back 
to  the  town  where  I  was  born,  things  have  come  to  a  nice 
pass.  Better  cut  all  that  out." 

"You're  certainly  a  past-master  at  making  a  mess  of 
things,"  William  continued.  "Your  coming  back  that  way 
fits  neatly  into  your  departure.  You  need  n't  think  people 
have  forgotten  that  you  ran  off  with  another  man's  wife. 
And  your  coming  back  right  now,  just  when  the  Mont- 
gomerys  had  buried  the  hatchet,  was  calculated  with  the 
Devil's  own  mind." 

"So  that's  the  tune,  is  it?"  said  Jack,  stretching  his  arms 
upon  the  table  and  clasping  his  fingers  to  subdue  their 
nervous  twitchings. 

"That's  just  the  tune!  This  town  isn't  big  enough  to  hold 
you  and  the  rest  of  us.  You  've  cost  me  a  lot  of  money  first 
and  last.  You  made  it  necessary  for  us  to  pull  away  from 
Amzi  and  start  all  over  again,  and  there  was  a  prejudice 
against  me  from  the  start  that  I  've  just  about  lived  down." 

Jack  grinned  unpleasantly. 

"Oh,  the  bank  has  n't  been  terribly  prosperous,  then!" 

William  blinked  at  the  thrust.  He  had  given  the  conver- 
sation an  unfortunate  turn,  and  he  sought  uncomfortably 
for  another  line  of  attack.  Jack  unwittingly  opened  the 
way  for  him. 

"You  were  the  good  boy  of  the  family  and  used  to  be  a 
pillar  in  the  church.  I  have  a  distinct  though  melancholy 
impression  that  when  I  took  myself  hence  you  were  passing 
the  basket  in  Center  Church  every  Sunday  morning.  I  don't 


BROTHERS  H9 

recall  that  I  ever  saw  you  do  it,  but  it  was  a  matter  of  com- 
mon knowledge  in  this  town,  Will,  that  you  did  that  very 
thing.  And  being  a  Christian,  just  how  do  you  square  your 
effusive  brotherly  welcome  with  the  gospel?  The  only  rea- 
son God  makes  sinners  is  to  give  'em  a  chance  to  repent. 
Without  repentance  what  do  you  suppose  would  become  of 
your  churches  anyhow?" 

"I  don't  see  any  repentance  in  you;  and  I  want  to  know 
right  now  what  you've  done  with  that  woman?" 

Jack  blinked,  then  smiled  and  gave  a  laugh  expressive  of 
disdain  and  contempt. 

"If  you  please,  which  woman?" 

William's  frown  deepened.  The  one  woman  was  certainly 
enough,  and  his  rage  was  increased  by  the  leer  that  accom- 
panied the  question. 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  there  have  been  enough  of  them!  I  mean 
the  one  you  took  away  from  here;  I  mean  Lois  Kirkwood." 

"  Oh,  Lois ! "  He  spoke  as  though  surprised  that  she  should 
be  chosen  for  particular  attention,  and  his  lip  curled  scorn- 
fully. "When  a  man  goes  wrong,  Will,  he  pays  for  it.  Take 
it  from  me  that  that's  one  gospel  truth  that  I  've  proved  to 
my  entire  satisfaction.  It's  queer,  Will,  how  soon  a  bonfire 
burns  out  —  the  bigger  the  fire  the  quicker  it  goes.  I  went 
plum  crazy  about  that  girl.  She'd  married  the  one  particu- 
lar man  on  earth  who  was  least  likely  to  make  her  happy.  He 
bored  her.  And  I  guess  her  baby  bored  her,  too,  —  she 
was  n't  a  domestic  animal, — no  pussy  cat  to  sit  by  the  fire  and 
play  with  the  baby  and  have  hubby's  slippers  toasting  when 
he  came  home  to  supper.  And  I  had  time  to  play  with  her; 
I  wasn't  so  intellectual  as  Tom,  but  my  nature  was  a  damned 
sight  more  sympathetic.  It  looked  as  though  we  had  been 
made  for  each  other,  and  I  was  fooled  into  thinking  so.  And 
I  was  bored  myself  —  this  silly  little  town,  with  nothing  to 
hold  anybody.  Lois  and  I  were  made  for  a  bigger  world  — 
at  least  we  thought  so:  and  by  Jove,  it  was  funny  how  we 
fooled  each  other  —  it  was  altogether  too  damned  funny!" 

"I'm  glad  you  take  a  humorous  view  of  it,  "replied  William 


1 50  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

coldly.  "  Not  satisfied  with  disgracing  the  family,  you  come 
back  to  rub  it  in.  Where  did  you  leave  the  woman?  I  sup- 
pose you've  chucked  her  —  the  usual  way." 

Jack  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"Well,  I  like  that!  You  don't  know  what  I  had  to  put  up 
with!  She  made  me  suffer,  I  can  tell  you!  I  don't  believe 
she  'd  deny  herself  that  she  made  it  damned  uncomfortable 
for  me.  She  liked  to  spend  money,  for  one  thing,  and  I 
could  n't  make  it  fast  enough ;  and  she  wanted  to  mingle  with 
the  rich  and  gay,  and  our  story  had  followed  us,  and  it's 
funny,  Will,  what  a  lot  of  old-fashioned,  stupid,  Thursday- 
night-prayer-meeting  and  the-pastor-in-to-tea  morality 
there  is  left  in  this  fool  world!  It  cut  Lois  up  a  good  deal, 
being  snubbed  by  people  she  wanted  to  stand  well  with.  It 
gave  me  a  jolt  to  find  that  I  was  n't  all-sufficient  for  her 
after  all ;  which  hurt  some  when  we  'd  decided  we  could  be 
happy  alone  together  in  the  woods  for  the  rest  of  our  days. 
It's  a  long  story,  and  I 'm  not  going  to  talk  about  it.  With 
the  money  I  took  away  from  here  I  began  monkeying  with 
real  estate;  it  didn't  seem  that  anybody  out  there  could 
lose  just  then:  but  I  was  a  bad  guesser.  In  five  years  I  had 
played  in  all  my  chips,  and  had  to  sneak  around  office  build- 
ings trying  to  sell  life  insurance,  which  was  n't  dignified  nor 
becoming  in  a  member  of  the  haughty  house  of  Hoi  ton." 

"Sam  told  me  a  different  story.  Why  don't  you  tell  the 
truth  if  you  talk  about  it  at  all?  You  gambled  and  lost  your 
money  —  that 's  what  happened ;  and  real  estate  specula- 
tion was  only  a  side  line.  But  Lois  had  money;  I  suppose 
you  played  that  away,  too.  Sam  never  seemed  quite  clear 
about  your  relations  with  her." 

"I  guess  he  did  n't!  There's  a  queer  woman,  Will.  The 
inscrutable  ways  of  Providence  were  not  in  it  with  hers.  She 
hated  me,  but  she  would  n't  let  go  of  me;  seemed  to  be  her 
idea  that  shaking  one  man  was  enough  and  she  wouldn't  let 
me  make  her  a  widow  a  second  time.  By  George,  I  could  n't 
shake  her  —  I  had  to  live  off  her!" 

William  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  scowled.    It  was  in- 


BROTHERS  15' 

credible  that  this  could  be  his  own  brother  who  spoke  thus 
of  the  gravest  relationships  of  life.  And  it  was  with  a  steady 
sinking  of  spirit  that  it  was  beaten  in  upon  him  that  this  man 
had  come  back  to  plant  himself  at  his  door.  He  was  busy 
calculating  the  effect  upon  himself,  his  family,  and  his  busi- 
ness of  the  prodigal's  return.  He  was  shocked,  disgusted, 
alarmed. 

His  wife  had  told  him  in  the  long  vigil  that  followed  her 
return  from  Amzi  Montgomery's  house,  when  she  learned 
that  her  brother-in-law  was  sleeping  off  his  spree  in  her 
guest-room,  that  Jack  had  to  go.  She  was  proud  and  arro- 
gant, and  she  had  no  idea  of  relinquishing  her  social  pre- 
eminence —  not  too  easily  won  —  in  the  town  to  which 
William  Holton  had  brought  her  to  live  out  her  life.  One  or 
two  of  the  old  families  had  never  received  her  with  any  cor- 
diality, clearly  by  reason  of  the  old  scandal.  And  where  there 
are  only  seventeen  thousand  people  in  a  town  the  indifference 
of  two  or  three,  when  they  happen  to  include  a  woman  like 
Mrs.  King,  was  not  to  be  ignored  or  borne  without  rancor. 
William's  indignation  was  intensified  as  he  reviewed  Jack's 
disclosures  from  the  angle  his  wife  had  drawn  for  him  in  the 
midnight  conference.  His  curiosity  was  sharpened,  however, 
as  to  the  subsequent  relationship  of  Jack  and  Lois  Kirkwood. 
Seattle  is  a  long  way  from  Montgomery  and  lines  of  com- 
munication few  and  slight.  Samuel,  returning  from  his  visits 
to  the  coast,  had  usually  been  too  full  of  his  own  schemes  to 
furnish  any  satisfactory  details  of  Jack  and  his  wife.  Wil- 
liam dropped  his  plumb-line  in  a  new  spot  where  he  fancied 
the  water  would  prove  shallow. 

"You  lived  off  her,  did  n't  you,  until  you  had  lived  up  all 
she  had?  The  gospel  did  n't  neglect  her;  she  got  her  share 
of  the  punishment." 

"Look  here,  Will,  you  must  n't  make  me  laugh  like  that! 
You  know  I  used  to  think  I  understood  human  nature,  but 
I  never  started  with  that  woman.  I  did  live  at  her  expense, 
—  I  had  to,  —  and  she  stood  for  it  until  I  got  to  hanging 
round  the  saloons  too  much.  She  used  to  pay  my  dues  in  the 


i52  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

club,  damned  if  she  did  n't,  until  I  got  fired  for  too  much 
poker  in  the  chamber  over  the  gate.  I  must  say  she  was  a 
good  sport:  as  a  fair-minded  man,  I've  got  to  admit  that. 
And  she  swung  the  lash  over  me  —  never  laid  it  on,  but  made 
it  sizz  —  whistle  —  till  I  'd  duck  and  sniffle ;  and  she  did 
exactly  what  she  pleased  without  caring  a  damn  whether  I 
liked  it  or  not!  By  George,  I  knew  she  was  a  wonder  when  I 
took  her  off  Kirkwood's  hands,  but  she  was  n't  wonderful  in 
just  the  way  I  thought  she'd  be.  That  was  where  the  joke 
came  in.  And  she  made  people  like  her ;  she  could  do  that ; 
and  she  got  on,  so  that  wherever  she  could  go  without  me  she 
was  welcome.  That  was  after  people  got  sorry  for  her  be- 
cause she  was  hooked  up  to  me;  but  most  of  'em,  I  guess, 
liked  her  on  her  own  account.  A  queer  development,  Will. 
For  the  past  five  years  I  've  just  been  a  piece  of  furniture,  to 
be  dusted  and  moved  occasionally  like  an  old  rocking-chair 
that  gets  into  a  house,  nobody  knows  exactly  how,  and  is 
shoved  around,  trying  corners  where  it  won't  be  noticed 
much,  until  it  winds  up  in  the  garret.  But  after  all  the  cor- 
ners had  been  tried,  —  she  did  n't  have  any  garret;  we  lived 
mostly  in  hotels  and  flats,  —  I  was  gradually  worked  out 
on  the  second-hand  man's  wagon,  and  here  I  am." 

"She  kept  her  money,  then?  "  asked  William  with  assumed 
indifference. 

"Will,"  said  Jack  with  a  mockingly  confidential  air,  lean- 
ing forward  on  the  table,  "after  the  first  two  or  three  years 
I  never  knew  whether  she  had  a  cent  or  not,  that's  the 
straight  of  it.  Considering  that  she  had  thrown  away  her 
reputation  like  an  old  shoe  just  for  me,  and  that  we  lived 
along  under  the  same  roof,  that  was  the  most  astonishing 
thing  of  all.  She  began  by  handing  me  out  a  hundred  now 
and  then  when  I  was  broke;  then  it  dropped  to  ten,  and  then 
it  got  down  to  a  dollar  a  week,  —  humiliating,  Will,  con- 
sidering that  I  had  given  up  my  interest  in  the  ancient  and 
honorable  firm  of  Montgomery  &  Holton,  Bankers,  just  for 
her!  But  when  she  shook  me  for  good,  I'm  damned  if  she 
did  n't  give  me  a  clean  thousand  just  as  a  consolation  prize." 


BROTHERS  153 

William  was  more  interested  in  this  phase  of  the  relation- 
ship than  in  anything  that  had  gone  before.  He  was  aware 
of  the  local  belief  that  Jack  had  thrown  away  his  wife's  share 
of  her  father's  estate  in  his  real  estate  speculations  in  Seattle 
and  that  Amzi  supported  her  dutifully  by  a  regular  allow- 
ance; in  fact,  the  three  sisters  had  encouraged  this  impres- 
sion by  characteristic  insinuations. 

"What's  become  of  her?  Where  is  she  now?" 
' '  That 's  where  you've  got  me  stung :  how  do  I  know  where 
she  is!  After  she  slipped  me  the  thousand  and  bade  me  a 
long  and  chilling  farewell,  I  used  to  keep  track  of  her  in  one 
way  or  another.  She  had  a  restless  streak  in  her,  —  that's 
why  she  could  n't  stand  Tom  and  the  rest  of  it,  —  and  when 
it  was  all  peach  blossoms  and  spring  with  us  she  liked  to  take 
spurts  over  the  world.  We  used  to  run  down  to  San  Fran- 
cisco for  little  sprees,  and  then  when  that  played  out  she 
shifted  to  New  York.  But  I  've  lost  her  trail  —  I  don't  any 
more  know  where  she  is  than  if  I  'd  never  laid  eyes  on  her. 
She  went  abroad  a  couple  of  times  and  she  may  be  over  there 
now.  Say,  if  Amzi 's  putting  up  for  her  you  will  lose  your 
main  competitor  one  of  these  days !  She  'd  bust  the  biggest 
bank  in  Wall  Street,  that  woman!  She's  a  luxurious  little 
devil,  and  a  wonder  for  looks.  Even  the  harsh  trial  of  living 
with  me  did  n't  wear  her  to  a  frazzle  the  way  you  might 
suppose  it  would.  I  guess  if  I  had  n't  poisoned  the  wells  for 
her,  she  could  have  shaken  me  for  most  any  man  she  liked. 
By  George,  I  '11  get  to  weeping  on  your  neck  in  a  minute,  just 
thinking  about  her.  I  started  in  to  tell  you  what  a  miserable 
little  wretch  she  is  and  I  'm  winding  up  by  bragging  about 
her.  She's  got  that  in  her!  But  she'll  bust  Amzi  before  she 
winds  up.  And  I  hope  you  appreciate  the  value  of  that 
news.  Old  Amzi,  if  he  has  n't  changed,  is  a  fat-head  who  's 
content  to  sit  in  his  little  bank  and  watch  the  world  go  by. 
And  I  guess  he 's  got  a  nice  bunch  of  brothers-in-law  on  his 
hands.  Poor  old  Amzi !  There  was  always  something  amus- 
ing about  the  cuss,  even  when  he  was  a  smug  little  roly-poly 
as  a  boy.  But  I  passed  his  bank  this  morning  and  it  looked 


154  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

like  an  undertaker's  office.  The  contrast  between  that  old 
tomb  and  your  plant  pleases  me,  Will;  it  soothes  my  family 
pride.  You  are  an  able  man  and  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
success.  Sam  liked  to  cut  didoes  on  thin  ice  a  little  too  well ; 
but  you  're  a  born  banker  —  inherited  it  from  father ;  and  I 
guess  I  did  n't  do  you  so  ill  a  turn  after  all  when  I  cut  loose 
with  Lois  and  broke  up  the  old  partnership.  There  was  n't 
enough  room  in  Montgomery  &  Hoi  ton  for  all  of  us." 

Several  times  William  shifted  his  position  uneasily.  His 
brother's  flattery  merely  paved  the  way  to  a  demand  —  he 
was  confident  of  this;  and  he  had  no  intention  of  yielding 
to  demands.  To  begin  advances  to  this  melancholy  wreck 
would  be  to  establish  a  precedent  for  interminable  bene- 
factions. It  was  better  to  deal  with  the  matter  at  once. 
A  clerk  called  him  out  to  speak  to  a  customer  and  when 
he  came  back,  Jack  was  moodily  glaring  out  upon  the 
little  court  at  the  rear  of  the  bank.  William  did  not  seat 
himself  again,  but  stood  by  the  table,  as  though  to  indicate 
his  intention  of  terminating  the  interview. 

"I  can't  give  you  any  more  time.  Just  what  have  you 
come  back  for?  I'm  entitled  to  know,  and  we  may  as  well 
have  it  out." 

"What  have  I  come  back  for?  I've  come  back  to  stay, 
that's  what  I'm  back  for!  I  want  a  job,  that's  all,  and  if 
you  won't  give  me  one,  I'd  like  to  know  just  where  your 
brotherly  heart  expects  me  to  go." 

"You  can't  stay  here,  Jack.  You've  got  to  clear  out.  I 
don't  mean  to  be  hard  on  you,  and  I  '11  give  you  enough  to  take 
you  wherever  you  want  to  go;  but  you  can't  camp  here; 
you  've  got  to  move  on.  If  you  'd  come  back  like  a  gentleman, 
it  might  have  been  different ;  but  the  whole  town 's  upset.  I  'd 
just  about  lived  you  down,  and  here  you  come  back  and  stir 
up  the  whole  mess.  The  way  you  came  back  puts  us  all  in 
the  hole;  the  sympathy  of  the  community  was  swinging 
round  to  our  side  a  little,  and  even  the  Montgomerys  were 
making  it  clear  that  they  were  willing  to  let  bygones  be  by- 
gones and  here  you  come  to  spoil  it  all !  And  you  Ve  not  only 


BROTHERS  155 

got  to  go,  but  you  've  got  to  go  now,  this  very  day  by  the  first 
train." 

This  was  received  blinkingly.  Jack  shook  his  head  as 
though  in  pity  for  his  brother's  harshness. 

"  For  a  man  brought  up  by  a  Christian  father  and  mother 
to  point  the  door  to  a  long-lost  brother  is  painful,  Will.  It 
wounds  me  deeply.  I  tell  you  right  now  that  I  'm  not  go- 
ing away  from  here  until  I  get  good  and  ready.  Do  you  fol- 
low me  ? ' ' 

He  rested  the  tips  of  his  ringers  on  the  table  and  bent 
toward  his  brother  with  a  cold  glitter  in  his  eyes.  Under  the 
mockery  of  his  phrases  a  hot  anger  lurked. 

"All  right,"  said  William.  "Stay,  then.  But  you  can't 
hang  yourself  around  my  neck.  Understand  that  right  here." 

"You  have  n't  heard  all  my  story  yet  — 

"  I  Ve  heard  all  I  'm  going  to  hear.  I  Ve  heard  enough  to 
make  me  sick.  I  hope  nobody  else  in  this  town  will  ever  hear 
it.  It's  worse  than  I  had  ever  imagined  —  you  allowing  that 
woman  to  support  you!  And  it's  nauseating  to  think  that 
you  don't  realize  the  rottenness  of  it.  But  you  seem  to  be 
incapable  of  any  decent  feeling  about  anything." 

"Stop  sentimentalizing  and  listen  to  me.  I  did  n't  come 
back  here  to  enter  upon  a  new  social  career ;  I  came  back  on 
business.  You  remember,  Will,  that  Sam  came  West  when 
you  and  he  were  selling  bonds  in  this  Sycamore  Traction 
line  on  which  I  rode  proudly  home  last  night.  I  helped  Sam 
sell  a  pretty  big  bunch  of  those  bonds  out  there.  Sam  could 
sell  anything  —  Sam  was  a  wonder !  and  he  planted  a  big 
bunch  of  those  things  along  the  coast  —  my  friends,  you 
know.  Sam 's  dead  and  gone  now  and  I  ain't  going  to  knock 
him  —  but  Sam  was  an  exuberant  chap  and  he  overcalcu- 
lated  the  cost  of  building  the  road.  That  was  on  the  con- 
struction company,  but  you  and  Sam  were  in  that  —  same 
old  game  of  working  both  sides  of  the  street.  It  was  just  a 
mistake  in  figures,  of  course,  but  some  of  those  people  out 
there  hear  the  road  ain't  doing  well,  and  they're  friends 
of  mine,  Will,  valued  friends,  and  now  that  Sam  's  gone 


156  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

it  fs  up  to  you  and  me  to  take  care  of  'em  —  do  you  follow 
me?" 

"  If  that's  what  you're  up  to  you've  made  a  big  mistake. 
That  road 's  one  of  the  most  successful  traction  lines  in  the 
West,  and  pays  its  bond  interest  on  the  dot." 

"  Nothing  easier;  but  I  happen  to  know  that  the  last  pay- 
ment was  made  with  borrowed  money.  Of  course,  only  a 
little  temporary  accommodation,  but  just  the  same  it  wasn't 
paid  out  of  earnings.  And,  Will,  you  ought  to  be  mighty 
careful  —  you  ought  n't  to  advance  bank  funds  for  such  a 
purpose ;  it 's  damned  bad  business ;  it 's  downright  immoral ; 
that's  all!  But  how  about  the  bonds  your  construction 
company  got  —  that  nice  little  margin  between  a  fair  profit 
for  building  the  road  and  a  big  fat  steal  at  the  expense  of  the 
bondholders?  And  you  authorized  the  sale  of  bonds  at 
eighty  to  pay  the  construction  bill,  got  ninety,  and  pocketed 
the  difference.  Oh,  you  need  n't  get  white  and  blink  at  me.  I 
know  what  he  did  with  his  share  of  the  boodle  —  he  had  to 
take  care  of  his  political  chums  he  got  into  other  schemes.  I 
know  all  about  Sam  —  he  was  always  borrowing,  we  will 
call  it,  from  Peter  to  pay  Paul,  and  most  of  it  got  into  Sam's 
pocket.  Now  here 's  my  position ;  right  here 's  where  I  come 
in.  I  'm  going  to  help  you  take  care  of  this,  but  you  've  got  to 
act  white  with  me.  I  'm  not  going  to  be  kicked  out  of  town  — 
not  unless  you  go  with  me.  Is  that  plain?" 

"You're  a  fool.  I  understand  nothing  except  that  you're 
trying  to  blackmail  me;  and  it  won't  go.  Why,  you  ought 
to  know  that  the  thing  you  accuse  Sam  of  doing  would  have 
landed  him  and  me,  too,  in  the  penitentiary.  What  do  you 
suppose  the  trustee  for  the  bondholders  was  doing?  What 
do  you  imagine  the  New  York  investors  were  thinking 
about?" 

"They  were  asleep,  Will,"  Jack  replied,  with  a  gleam  of 
malignant  humor.  "And  Sam  was  awful  slick.  Sam  could 
sell  winter  underwear  in  hell.  And  I  guess  you  could  sell 
anthracite  at  a  profit  down  there,  too.  You  talk  about  the 
family  dignity;  —  by  George,  I  never  started  with  you 


BROTHERS  15? 

fellows!  Running  away  with  another  man's  wife  is  tame 
business  compared  with  your  grafting.  And  I  've  got  a  little 
more  news  for  you.  The  clouds  are  gathering,  you  might 
say,  in  all  parts  of  the  horizon."  He  swept  the  room  with  a 
comprehensive  gesture.  "  It's  just  one  of  those  queer  twists 
of  the  screw  of  fate  that  brings  us  all  up  against  Tom  Kirk- 
wood.  Tom's  smart:  he  always  was,  and  as  straight  a  man 
as  God  Almighty  ever  put  on  the  footstool,  and  he's  prying 
into  Sycamore  Traction.  I  stopped  off  for  a  day  or  two  in 
Indianapolis  and  got  on  to  this.  There  was  a  lawyer  and  an 
officer  of  the  Desbrosses  Trust  &  Guaranty  Company  out 
here  from  New  York  to  talk  things  over  with  Kirkwood,  — 
he  has  some  pull  down  there,  —  and  they've  employed  him. 
While  Sam  lived  he  watched  little  things  like  that;  filled 
up  the  accountants  with  champagne  and  took  care  of  the 
statements,  but  I  guess  you  are  not  quite  as  smart  as  Sam. 
I  guess  it 's  about  all  you  can  do  to  take  care  of  the  bank 
examiner  when  he  drops  in  to  shake  hands." 

William  had  listened  intently,  his  arms  folded,  a  smile  of 
derision  on  his  face. 

"Just  how  much  do  you  charge  for  this  information?"  he 
demanded  coldly. 

"I'm  not  going  to  charge  you;  I'm  going  to  help  you, 
Will.  It's  my  duty  as  a  brother  to  warn  you  and  help  you 
out  of  trouble.  Family  feeling  is  strong  in  me:  I'm  not  a 
man  to  let  my  own  brother  go  down  if  I  can  keep  him  up. 
I  see  it  in  your  eye  that  — ' 

William  flung  round  to  the  door  and  swung  it  open. 

"Get  out  of  here!" 

"Oh,  is  that  the  answer?  Then,  all  right!" 

He  picked  up  his  hat,  drew  on  his  coat  unhurriedly, 
\valked  calmly  round  the  table  and  lounged  out  of  the  bank. 


CHAPTER  XII 

NAN  BARTLETT'S  DECISION 

"  DAD  's  gone  to  Indianapolis  to  be  gone  several  days  and 
did  n't  expect  to  be  back  to-night;  so  come  over  and  stay 
with  me,  won't  you  —  please?  If  you  won't  I  '11  have  to  go 
to  Aunt  Josephine's,  which  is  a  heartbreaking  thought." 

This  was  the  second  day  after  the  party,  and  Nan  agreed 
to  go.  Phil's  maid-of-all-work  did  not  sleep  at  the  house  and 
the  aunts  had  asserted  that  Phil's  new  status  as  a  member  of 
society  made  necessary  some  sort  of  chaperonage.  Nan 
arrived  at  the  house  late  in  the  afternoon  and  found  Phil 
opening  a  box  of  roses  that  had  just  come  from  Indianapolis 
by  express. 

"American  beauties!  and  grand  ones!" 

She  handed  Nan  the  card  and  watched  her  face  as  she 
read  it. 

"I  should  have  guessed  Charlie  Holton,"  said  Nan  color- 
lessly. "Well,  they're  fine  specimens." 

"  It's  very  nice  of  him,  I  think,"  said  Phil.  "  Particularly 
when  I  was  so  snippy  to  him." 

"Why  did  you  snip  him?"  asked  Nan,  watching  Phil 
thrust  the  last  of  the  long  stems  into  a  tall  vase. 

"Oh,  he  started  in  to  rush  me.  And  I  guess  he's  some 
rusher.  I  suppose  he's  had  a  lot  of  practice." 

"I  suppose  he  has,"  said  Nan  indifferently. 

"And  nobody  ever  gave  me  just  the  line  of  talk  he  puts 
up,  except  of  course  Lawrmce." 

She  feigned  to  be  observing  the  adjustment  of  the  roses 
with  a  particular  interest,  and  looking  round  caught  Nan 
frowning. 

"Is  he  trying  to  flirt  with  you?  I  supposed  even  he  had 
his  decent  moments.  When  did  that  happen?" 


NAN  BARTLETT'S  DECISION  159 

"Oh,  at  the  party;  everything  happened  at  the  party." 
"Two  men  making  love  to  you  on  the  same  evening  is  a 
good  record  for  Montgomery.    I  suppose  Lawrence  played 
the  ardent  Romeo  game ;  I  understand  that  he 's  better  '  off ' 
than  'on.'  And  you  snipped  him,  of  course." 

"Oh,  I  mean  to  snip  them  all!   Is  n't  that  right?" 
"It's  pathetic  that  Lawrence  Hastings  never  quite  for- 
gets that  he  played  the  banana  circuit  in  repertoire.   That 
man's  an  awful  bore." 

"I  find  him  amusing,"  said  Phil  provokingly.  "And  he 
always  gives  me  a  box  at  matinees.  Which  is  just  that 
much  more  than  I  ever  get  out  of  my  other  imitation  uncles. 
If  I  led  him  on  a  trifle,  don't  you  suppose  he  might  come  to 
the  point  of  proposing  to  fly  with  me?  That  would  be  a 
consummation  devoutly  to  be  worked  for." 

"  Phil,  I  '11  send  you  to  bed  if  you  talk  like  that." 
"There's  always  the  window  and  the  old  apple  tree;  I 
dare  you  to  put  me  to  bed!  I  suppose,"  she  said,  nodding  in 
the  direction  of  the  roses,  "that  those  are  a  sort  of  peace 
offering,  to  make  up  for  his  uncle  coming  to  the  party  as  he 
did.  If  that's  the  idea  it  was  decent  of  him." 

The  maid  brought  in  a  box  that  had  just  been  left  at  the 
kitchen  door.  Phil  ran  to  the  window  and  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  man  closing  the  gate.  It  was  Fred  Holton,  in  a  long 
ulster  with  the  collar  turned  up  about  his  ears.  He  untied 
his  horse,  attached  to  a  ramshackle  buggy,  and  drove  off. 
Phil  recognized  him  instantly,  but  made  no  sign  to  Nan. 

Across  the  top  of  the  small  pasteboard  box,  "  Perishable" 
was  scrawled.  Inside,  neatly  dressed,  lay  six  quails.  On  a 
card  was  written :  — 

"  Compliments  of  Listening  Hill  Farm" 

"What's  Listening  Hill  Farm?"  asked  Nan. 

"That's  Fred  Helton's.  He  lives  out  there  now.  It's  just 
like  that  boy  to  slip  round  to  the  back  door  with  an  offering 
like  that.  Roses  from  Charlie;  birds  from  Fred.  And  there's 
just  about  that  difference  between  them." 


160  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Nan's  eyes  clouded. 

"Phil,"  she  said  with  emphasis,  "those  three  aunts  of 
yours  have  n't  the  sense  of  rabbits !  The  comparison  flat- 
ters them.  They  had  no  business  asking  the  Holtons  to 
your  party.  It  was  unnecessary  —  it  was  absurd.  It  was 
cruel!" 

Nan  was  not  often  like  this.  There  was  unmistakable 
indignation  in  her  tone  as  she  continued :  — 

"Your  Uncle  Amzi  should  have  set  his  face  against  it. 
And  I  suppose  they  were  satisfied  with  the  outcome;  I 
devoutly  hope  so." 

"Well,  don't  jump  on  Amy;  he  only  let  them  have 
their  way  to  avoid  a  fuss.  When  the  three  of  them  descend 
on  him  they  do  try  Amy's  soul;  he  never  admits  it,  but  I 
always  know  afterwards.  It  unsettles  him  for  a  week." 

"Those  women,"  said  Nan,  "have  been  all  over  town 
apologizing  for  Jack  Holton  —  as  though  it  was  up  to  them 
to  defend  him  for  turning  up  at  your  party  vilely  drunk.  I 
tell  you,  Phil,  I  'm  glad  you  have  the  sense  you  have  in  that 
head  of  yours  and  that  you  've  grown  up  to  a  point  where  we 
can  talk  of  things.  The  Holtons  are  no  good!  There's  a 
crooked  streak  in  the  whole  lot.  And  all  that 's  the  matter 
with  your  blessed  trio  of  aunts  is  their  ambition  to  stand  well 
with  Mrs.  William,  and  your  precious  uncles  lean  on  the 
First  National  counter  when  they  want  to  borrow  money. 
But  you  'd  think  they  'd  have  some  respect  for  your  father, 
for  your  uncle,  for  you!" 

"Oh,  well,  it's  all  over  now,"  replied  Phil. 

"It's  a  good  thing  you're  the  wise  child  you  are!  You 
understand  perfectly  that  the  Holtons  are  not  for  you  in  this 
world.  And  if  your  father  were  n't  the  gentleman  he  is  he 
would  have  made  a  big  row  about  those  people  being  asked 
to  your  party:  it  was  an  insult,  too  deep  for  my  powers  of 
description.  Those  women  treat  your  father  as  though  he 
were  a  halfway  idiot  —  a  fool  to  be  thrust  around  when  it 
pleases  them,  and  to  be  the  object  of  simpering  tears  when 
they  want  to  play  the  pathetic  in  speaking  of  your  mother 


NAN  BARTLETT'S  DECISION  161 

to  people.  They  are  detestable,  contemptible.  And  Jack 
Helton's  turning  up  at  Amzi's  was  the  very  last  straw." 

Phil  gazed  at  Nan  with  increasing  surprise.  This  was  not 
the  familiar  Nan  Bartlett  of  the  unfailing  gentleness,  the 
whimsical  humor.  This  was  almost  a  scene,  and  scenes  were 
not  to  the  liking  of  either  of  the  Bartlett  sisters. 

"Daddy  hardly  referred  to  that,  Nan.  I  don't  think  it 
really  troubled  him." 

"That 's  the  worst  of  it,  dear  child !  Of  course  he  would  n't 
show  feeling  about  it!  That's  the  heartbreaking  thing  about 
that  father  of  yours,  that  he  has  borne  that  old  trouble  so 
bravely.  It  was  ghastly  that  that  man  of  all  men  should  have 
stumbled  into  Amzi's  house  in  that  way.  Nothing  was  ever 
nobler  than  the  way  your  father  bore  it." 

She  knelt  suddenly  and  clasped  Phil  in  her  arms  as 
though  to  shield  her  from  all  the  wrongs  of  the  world.  There 
were  tears  in  Nan's  eyes,  unmistakably,  when  Phil  stroked 
her  cheek,  and  then  for  the  first  time  with  a  sudden  impulse 
Nan  kissed  her.  Phil's  intercourse  with  the  Bartletts  had 
been  in  the  key  of  happy  companionship,  marked  with  a 
restraint  that  the  girl  respected  and  admired.  There  had 
been  an  imperceptible  line  beyond  which  she  had  never 
carried  her  pranks  with  them.  Tears  she  had  never  asso- 
ciated with  either  of  the  sisters.  She  would  have  assumed, 
if  it  had  ever  been  a  question  in  her  mind,  that  Rose  would 
have  been  the  likelier  to  yield  to  emotion. 

Nan  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out  upon  the  slowly 
falling  snow.  Phil  was  busy  for  a  moment  readjusting  herself 
to  the  new  intimacy  established  by  the  sight  of  her  friend's 
agitation.  These  first  tears  that  Phil  had  ever  seen  in  Nan's 
eyes  had  a  clarifying  effect  upon  her  consciousness  and 
understanding.  There  flashed  upon  her  keen  mind  a  thought 
—  startling,  almost  incredible.  It  was  as  though  in  some 
strange  fashion,  in  the  unlikeliest  spot,  she  had  come  upon  a 
rare  flower,  too  marvelous  to  breathe  upon.  Her  quick  wits 
held  it  off  guardedly  for  bewildered  inspection.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  it  was  for  her  father  that  Nan  had  yielded  to 


1 62  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

tears?  Beneath  liking  and  sympathy  might  there  lie  a 
deeper  feeling  than  friendship  in  this  woman's  heart?  There 
had  always  seemed  to  be  an  even  balance  of  regard  for 
the  sisters  in  all  her  father's  intercourse  with  Buckeye 
Lane.  They  had  been  a  refuge  and  resource,  but  she  had  im- 
agined that  he  went  there  as  she  did  because  it  was  the  very 
pleasantest  place  in  town  to  visit.  Whether  he  admired  one 
more  than  the  other  had  never  been  a  problem  in  her 
mind,  though  now  she  recalled  the  intimations  of  her 
aunts  —  intimations  which  she  had  cast  into  the  limbo  to 
which  she  committed  their  views  and  insinuations  on  most 
topics.  Phil  stood  by  the  black  slate  mantel  of  the  shelf- 
lined  sitting-room,  her  heart  beating  fast.  But  Nan  turned 
to  her  laughingly. 

"  It 's  old  age,  Phil !  Rose  always  tells  me  that  I  must  stop 
peppering  my  victuals  or  I  '11  become  one  of  the  sobbing 
sisterhood  one  of  these  days.  What  have  you  been  reading 
lately,  Phil?" 

"Just  finished  'The  Gray  Knight  of  Picardy.'  Daddy 
did  n't  want  me  to  read  it  —  said  it  was  only  half  good  and 
that  I  ought  n't  to  waste  time  on  books  that  were  n't  a 
hundred  per  cent  good.  I  think  it's  bully.  I  'm  crazy  about 
it.  It's  so  beautifully,  deliciously  funny.  And  Nan  —  why, 
Nan,  it  sounds  just  like  you!" 

"Elucidate,"  remarked  Nan  carelessly. 

"Oh,  it's  like  you,  some  of  it  —  the  general  absurdness  of 
it  all ;  and  then  some  of  it  is  so  amazingly  like  dad  —  when 
he  has  a  highfalutin'  fit  and  talks  through  his  hat  in  the  old 
Morte  Darthur  lingo.  It's  Malory  brought  up  to  date,  with 
a  dash  of  Quixote.  I  nearly  died  at  that  place  where  the 
knight  breaks  his  lance  on  the  first  automobile  he  ever  saw 
and  then  rides  at  the  head  of  the  circus  parade.  It's  cer- 
tainly a  ticklesome  yarn." 

She  advanced  upon  Nan  dramatically,  with  arm  out- 
stretched, pointing  accusingly.  "Look  me  in  the  eye,  Nan! 
Did  you  and  daddy  frame  that  up  between  you?  Be  careful 
now!  Dad  wrote  prodigiously  all  last  winter  —  let  me  think 


NAN  BARTLETT'S  DECISION  163 

it  was  a  brief ;  and  you  and  he  used  to  get  your  heads  together 
a  good  deal,  private  like,  and  I  feigned  not  to  notice  because 
I  thought  you  were  talking  about  me!" 

She  clasped  Nan  by  the  wrists  and  laughed  into  her  eyes. 

"Go  and  sit  in  your  little  chair,  Phil.  Your  intuitions  are 
playing  tricks  with  your  judgment." 

"Fudge!  I  know  it's  true  now.  The  author's  name  in  the 
book  is  a  nom  de  plume.  I  saw  that  in  a  literary  note 
somewhere." 

Nan  had  seriously  hoped  Phil  would  not  learn  of  the  joint 
authorship;  but  already  it  was  an  accepted  fact  in  the  girl's 
mind.  She  was  smitten  with  contrition  for  her  blindness  in 
having  failed  to  see  earlier  what  was  now  plain  enough! 
Nan  was  in  love  with  her  father!  Their  collaboration  upon 
a  book  only  added  plausibility  to  her  surmise.  Nothing 
could  be  plainer,  nothing,  indeed,  more  fitting!  Her  heart 
warmed  at  the  thought.  Her  father  stood  forth  in  a  new 
light;  she  was  torn  with  self-accusations  for  her  stupidity  in 
not  having  seen  it  all  before.  Admitting  nothing,  Nan 
parried  her  thrusts  about  the  "Gray  Knight."  When  Phil 
caught  up  the  book  and  began  to  read  a  passage  that  she 
had  found  particularly  diverting,  and  which  she  declared  to 
be  altogether  "Nanesque,"  as  she  put  it,  Nan  snatched  the 
book  away  and  declined  to  discuss  the  subject  further. 

Nan  had  recovered  her  spirits,  and  the  two  gave  free  rein 
to  the  badinage  in  which  they  commonly  indulged. 

They  were  sitting  down  at  the  table  when  Kirkwood 
arrived.  He  had  found  it  possible  to  come  home  for  the 
night  and  run  back  to  the  city  in  the  morning.  Now  that 
Phil's  suspicions  had  been  aroused  as  to  Nan,  she  was  alert 
for  any  manifestation  of  reciprocal  feeling  in  her  father.  He 
was  clearly  pleased  to  find  Nan  in  his  house ;  but  there  was 
nothing  new  in  this.  He  would  have  been  as  glad  to  see  Rose, 
Phil  was  sure.  Phil  launched  daringly  upon  "The  Gray 
Knight  of  Picardy,"  parrying  evasion  and  shattering  the 
wall  of  dissimulation  behind  which  they  sought  to  entrench 
themselves.  It  was  just  like  Nan  and  her  father;  no  one  else 


i64  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

would  ever  have  thought  up  anything  so  preposterous,  so 
killingly  funny.  She  went  for  the  book  and  cited  chapters  and 
attributed  them,  one  after  the  other,  to  the  collaborators. 

"Oh,  you  can't  tell  me !  That  talk  between  the  knight  and 
the  cigar-store  Indian  is  yours,  Nan;  and  the  place  where  he 
finds  the  militia  drilling  and  chases  the  colonel  into  the  creek 
is  yours,  daddy !  And  I  'm  ashamed  of  both  of  you  that  you 
never  told  me!  What  have  I  done  to  be  left  out  of  a  joke  like 
this!  You  might  have  let  me  squeeze  in  a  little  chapter 
somewhere.  I  always  thought  I  could  write  a  book  if  some 
one  would  give  me  a  good  start." 

"We're  cornered,"  said  Nan  finally.  "But  we'll  have  to 
bribe  her." 

"I  came  by  the  office  and  found  some  more  letters  from 
magazines  that  want  short  stories,  serials,  anything  from 
the  gifted  author  of  'The  Gray  Knight  of  Picardy,'"  said 
Kirkwood.  "Why  not  enlarge  the  syndicate,  Nan,  and  let 
Phil  in?  But  I  've  got  to  retire ;  I  must  n't  even  be  suspected. 
This  is  serious.  It  would  kill  my  prospects  as  a  lawyer  if 
it  got  out  on  me  that  I  dallied  at  literature.  It 's  no  joke  that 
the  law  is  a  jealous  mistress.  And  now  I  have  the  biggest 
case  I  ever  had;  and  likely  to  be  the  most  profitable.  How 
do  we  come  by  these  birds,  Phil?" 

"Fred  Holton  brought  them  in,  daddy.  You  remember 
him;  he  was  at  the  party." 

"Yes;  I  remember,  Phil.  He's  Samuel's  boy,  who's  gone 
to  live  on  their  old  farm." 

Nan  turned  the  talk  away  from  the  Holtons  and  they  went 
into  the  living-room  where  Kirkwood  read  some  of  the 
notices  he  had  found  in  his  mail.  He  improvised  a  number 
of  criticisms  ridiculing  the  book  mercilessly  and  he  abused 
the  imaginary  authors  until,  going  too  far,  Phil  snatched 
away  the  clippings  and  convicted  him  of  fraud.  She  declared 
that  he  deserved  a  mussing  and  drove  him  to  a  corner  to 
make  the  threat  good,  and  only  relented  when  she  had 
exacted  a  promise  from  him  never  to  leave  her  out  again  in 
any  of  his  literary  connivings  with  Nan. 


NAN  BARTLETT'S  DECISION  165 

The  wind  whistled  round  the  house,  and  drove  the  snow 
against  the  panes.  A  snowstorm  makes  for  intimacy,  and 
the  three  sat  by  the  grate  cozily,  laughing  and  talking;  it 
was  chiefly  books  they  discussed.  This  was  tiie  first  time 
Nan  had  ever  shared  a  winter-night  fireside  with  the  Kirk- 
woods,  much  as  she  saw  of  them.  And  Phil  was  aware  of  a 
fitness  in  the  ordering  of  the  group  before  the  glowing  little 
grate.  The  very  books  on  the  high  shelves  seemed  to  make  a 
background  for  Nan.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than 
that  she  should  abide  there  forever.  Phil  became  so  en- 
grossed in  her  speculations  that  she  dropped  out  of  the  talk. 
Inevitably  the  vague  shadow  of  the  mother  she  had  never 
known  stole  into  the  picture.  She  recalled  the  incident  of 
the  broken  negative  that  had  slipped  from  her  father's 
fingers  upon  the  floor  of  the  abandoned  photograph  gallery. 
Her  young  imagination  was  kindled,  and  her  sympathies 
went  out  to  the  man  and  woman  who  sat  there  before  the 
little  grate,  so  clearly  speaking  the  same  language,  so  drawn 
together  by  common  interests  and  aspirations. 

She  was  brought  to  earth  by  Nan's  sudden  exclamation 
that  she  must  go  home.  There  was  no  question  about  it, 
she  said,  when  they  pleaded  the  storm  as  a  reason  for  spend- 
ing the  night;  she  had  come  merely  to  relieve  Phil's  loneli- 
ness. Nan  protested  that  she  could  go  alone ;  but  Kirkwood 
without  debating  the  matter  got  into  his  ulster,  and  Phil, 
screened  by  the  door,  watched  them  pass  under  the  electric 
light  at  the  corner. 

The  streets  were  deserted  and  the  storm  had  its  will  with 
the  world.  Nan  and  Kirkwood  stopped  for  breath  and  to 
shake  off  the  snow  where  a  grocer's  shed  protected  the 
sidewalk. 

"I  came  back  to-night,"  he  said,  "because  I  wanted  to 
see  you,  and  I  knew  I  should  find  you  with  Phil.  Nan,  after 
what  happened  at  Amzi's  the  other  night  I  find  I  need  you 
more  than  I  ever  knew.  I  was  afraid  you  might  imagine  that 
would  make  a  difference.  But  not  in  the  way  you  may  think 


166  OTHERWISE   PHYLLIS 

—  not  about  Lois!   It  was  just  the  thought  of  him  —  that 
he  had  once  been  my  friend,  and  came  back  like  that.    It 
was  only  that,  Nan.   If  she  had  come  back  and  stood  there 
in  the  door  I  should  n't  have  had  a  twinge.     I  'm  all  over 
that.    I've  been  over  it  for  a  long  time." 

"I  think  I  understand  that,  but  nothing  can  make  any 
difference  as  to  us.  That  is  one  thing  that  is  not  for  this 
world!  Come,  we  must  hurry  on!" 

As  she  took  a  step  forward  he  sprang  in  front  of  her. 

"Nan,  I've  got  to  go  back  to  the  city  on  the  morning 
train.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  now  that  you  will  marry  me  — 
let  us  say  in  the  spring.  Let  me  have  that  to  look  forward 
to.  I  've  waited  a  long  time,  and  the  years  are  passing.  I 
want  you  to  say  'yes'  to-night." 

He  touched  her  shoulders  lightly  with  his  hands.  They 
slipped  along  her  arms  till  he  clasped  her  fingers,  tightly 
clenched  in  her  muff. 

"You  love  me,  Nan ;  I  know  you  do !  And  you  have  known 
a  long  time  that  I  care  for  you.  Nothing  was  ever  as  dear  as 
the  thought  of  you.  Whatever  has  gone  before  in  my  life  is 
done  and  passed.  I  can't  have  you  say  'no'  to  me.  Please, 
dear  Nan  —  dearest! " 

It  was  a  strange  place  for  lovers'  talk,  but  the  tumult  of 
the  storm  was  in  Kirkwood's  heart.  The  weariness  of  a 
laborious  day  vanished  in  the  presence  of  this  woman.  His 
habitual  restraint,  the  reticences  of  his  nature  were  swept 
away.  His  was  no  midsummer  passion ;  winter 's  battle-song 
throbbed  in  his  pulses.  He  caught  her  arm  roughly  as  she 
sought  to  continue  their  flight. 

"No,  Tom;  no!" 

"Then  why?"  he  persisted.   "  It  can't  be  because  of  Lois 

—  you  can't  suspect  that  even  the  thought  of  her  wounds 
me  now.    Jack's  coming  back  proved  that  to  me:  I  mean 
what  I  say ;  I  don't  care  any  more !  There 's  nothing  for  me  in 
this  world  but  you  —  you  and  Phil !   The  memory  of  that 
other  woman  is  gone ;  I  give  myself  to  you  as  though  she  had 
never  been." 


NAN  BARTLETT'S  DECISION  167 

"Oh,  Tom,  I  don't  believe  you!  I  don't  believe  any  man 
like  you  ever  forgets!  And  Phil  mustn't  know  you  even 
think  you  have  forgotten!  That  would  be  wrong;  it  would 
be  a  great  sin !  She  must  never  think  you  have  forgotten  the 
woman  who  is  her  mother.  And  it  is  n't  right  that  you 
should  forget !  There  are  men  that  might,  but  not  you  — 
not  you,  dear  Tom!" 

She  shook  off  his  hands  and  flung  herself  against  the 
storm.  He  plunged  after  her,  following  perforce.  It  was 
impossible  to  talk,  so  blinding  was  the  slant  of  snow  and 
sleet  in  their  faces.  She  drove  on  with  the  energy  born  of  a 
new  determination,  and  he  made  no  effort  to  speak  again  as 
he  tramped  beside  her. 

When  they  reached  the  house  in  Buckeye  Lane  he  sought 
to  detain  her  with  a  plaintive  "Please,  Nan?"  But  she 
rapped  on  the  door  and  when  Rose  opened  it  slipped  in, 
throwing  a  breathless  good-night  over  her  shoulder. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   BEST   INTERESTS   OF  MONTGOMERY 

PHIL  dropped  into  the  "Evening  Star"  office  to  write  an 
item  about  the  approaching  Christmas  fair  at  Center 
Church,  for  which  she  was  the  publicity  agent.  Incidentally 
she  asked  Billy  Barker,  the  editor,  to  instruct  her  in  the  deli- 
cate art  of  proof-reading.  As  he  was  an  old  friend  she  did  not 
mind  letting  him  into  the  secret  of  "The  Dogs  of  Main 
Street."  Barker's  editorial  sense  was  immediately  roused 
by  Phil's  disclosure.  He  said  he  would  write  to  "Journey's 
End  "  for  advance  sheets  and  make  it  a  first-page  feature  the 
day  it  appeared. 

Montgomery  was  a  literary  center;  in  the  early  eighties  it 
had  been  referred  to  by  the  Boston  "Transcript"  as  the  Hoo- 
sier  Athens;  and  the  Athenians  withheld  not  the  laurel  from 
the  brows  of  their  bards,  romancers,  and  essayists.  Not  since 
Barker  had  foreshadowed  the  publication  of  "The  Deathless 
Legion,"  General  Whitcomb's  famous  tale  of  the  Caesars,  had 
anything  occurred  that  promised  so  great  a  sensation  as  the 
news  that  Phil  had  ventured  into  the  field  of  authorship. 
Barker  even  fashioned  phrases  in  which  he  meant  to  publish 
the  glad  tidings,  —  "a  brilliant  addition  to  the  Hoosier 
group";  "a  new  Jane  Austen  knocks  at  the  door  of  Fame," 
etc.  He  jotted  down  a  list  of  the  commonest  typographical 
symbols,  and  warned  Phil  against  an  over-indulgence  in 
changes,  as  it  might  prejudice  the  "Journey's  End"  office 
against  her. 

"  I  was  about  to  offer  you  a  job,  Phil,  but  now  that  you  're 
a  high-priced  magazine  writer  I  'm  ashamed  to  do  it.  Our 
local  has  skipped  and  I  'm  almost  up  against  going  out  to 
chase  a  few  items  myself.  You  might  pull  out  that  church 
fair  a  few  joints,  or  I  '11  be  reduced  to  shoving  in  boiler  plate 


BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY    169 

on  the  first  page;  which  is  reprehensible.  Kindly  humble 
yourself  and  give  me  some  'Personal  and  Society,'  —  some 
of  your  highly  interesting  family  must  be  doing  something 
or  somebody,  —  dish  it  up  and  don't  spare  the  gravy." 

"You  have  n't  heard  rumors  that  the  Hastings  is  to  be 
turned  into  a  fil-lum  show-house,  have  you?"  asked  Phil, 
fishing  a  lead  pencil  stub  from  her  pocket. 

"Lord,  no!  Has  our  own  Hamlet  come  to  that?  Write  a 
hot  roast  of  it;  turn  the  screw  on  this  commercializing  of 
our  only  theater  —  this  base  betrayal  of  public  confidence 
by  one  to  whom  we  all  looked  for  nobler  things.  I  'm  sore 
at  Lawrence  anyhow  for  kicking  at  our  write-up  of  those 
outlaws  who  strolled  through  here  playing  'She  Never  Told 
Her  Love.'  The  fact  is  that  girl  told  it  in  the  voice  of  one 
who  should  be  bawling  quick  orders  in  a  hole-in-the-wall 
restaurant.  Here's  where  we  taunt  Mr.  Hastings  with  his 
own  lofty  idealism.  Have  all  the  fun  with  him  you  like; 
and  not  a  soul  shall  ever  know  from  me  who  knocked 
him." 

Phil  nibbled  her  pencil  meditatively. 

"You've  got  the  wrong  number.  Lawrence  hasn't  found 
the  price  yet;  he 's  only  getting  estimates;  but  you'd  better 
coax  him  to  make  the  change  —  bring  the  drammer  closer  to 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  None  of  these  cheap  fil-lums  where 
a  comic  dog  runs  in  and  upsets  the  tea-table,  just  as  the  par- 
son is  about  to  say  grace,  but  the  world's  greatest  artists 
brought  within  the  reach  of  all  who  command  the  homely 
nickel.  Do  you  follow  me,  O  protector  of  the  poor?" 

"  I  see  your  family  pride  is  stung,  Phil.  Let  it  go  at  that. 
There 's  a  cut  of  Hastings  as  Romeo  that  I  'm  utilizing  as  a 
paper-weight,  and  I  '11  run  that  just  to  show  there's  no  hard 
feeling.  By  the  by,  Phil,  how's  your  pa  getting  on  with  the 
traction  company?" 

"Nothing  doing!  I  'm  not  as  foolish  as  I  am  young.  And 
besides  I  don't  know." 

The  editor  took  a  turn  across  the  room  and  rumpled  his 
hair.  He  pointed  to  a  clipping  on  his  desk  from  the  Indian- 


i?o  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

apolis    "Advertiser"    of    that    morning.     The    headlines 
proclaimed :  — 

SCANDAL   IN   SYCAMORE  TRACTION 

RUMORS   THAT   RECEIVERSHIP    IS   IMMINENT 

FOREIGN   BONDHOLDERS   THREATENING 

HOLTON   ESTATE  TO    BE   INVESTIGATED 

Phil's  face  grew  serious.  Her  father  had  not  been  home  for 
several  days  and  she  knew  that  his  business  in  Indianapolis 
had  absorbed  his  time  and  attention  increasingly. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  she  answered, 
"and  of  course  if  you  thought  I  did  you  would  n't  ask  me." 

"Of  course  not,  Phil.  But  it's  a  mess.  And  I  don't  know 
whether  to  print  something  about  it  or  let  it  go.  Bill  Hoi- 
ton's  out  of  town  and  I  don't  like  to  shoot  without  giving 
him  a  chance.  But  I  owe  him  a  few.  If  the  company  goes 
bust,  there 's  going  to  be  a  row  round  here  we  won't  forget 
in  a  hurry.  Every  widow  and  orphan  in  the  county  has 
got  some  of  that  stuff.  They  worked  that  racket  as  hard  as 
they  could  —  home  road  for  the  home  people.  What 's  the 
answer?" 

Phil  drew  up  the  editor's  clip  of  paper  and  wrote:  — 

"Mr.  Amzi  Montgomery  went  to  Indianapolis  yesterday 
to  attend  the  Nordica  concert." 

Barker  stared  at  this  item  blankly. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Phil  indifferently;  "it's  only  an  item." 

"Amzi's  always  going  to  concerts,"  remarked  the  editor 
i  nconsequently . 

"I  thought  maybe  he  was  n't  going  to  this  one,  for  the 
excellent  reason  that  he  declined  to  take  me  along." 

Barker  ran  his  hand  through  his  hair,  looked  at  Phil  with 
dawning  intelligence,  and  his  brow  cleared. 

"I  haven't  said  anything,"  remarked  Phil  discreetly, 
"because  I  don't  know  anything." 


BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY     17* 

Barker  put  on  his  coat  and  hat. 

"Guess  I'll  go  out  and  sniff  the  local  feeling  on  this 
proposition.  It's  about  time  I  blew  the  lid  off  and  said  a 
few  things  about  Bill  Holton.  If  Bernstein  brings  in  copy 
for  his  Christmas  'ad,'  whistle  for  the  boy  and  tell  'em  to 
hustle  it.  Hang  your  stuff  on  the  hook  and  I  '11  write  the 
heads  later.  Don't  let  your  playful  humor  get  away  with 
you,  and  if  any  farmers  come  in  with  the  biggest  pumpkin 
ever  raised  on  Sugar  Creek,  note  the  name  and  weight  care- 
fully, call  the  boy  and  send  the  precious  fruit  right  home  to 
our  wife.  Our  annual  biggest  pumpkin  is  long  overdue  and 
undelivered.  You  might  just  head  that  item  'When  the 
Frost  is  on  the  Punkin.'  We  have  captious  subscribers  who 
check  up  on  favorite  quotations  and  our  aim  is  to  please  one 
and  all." 

A  desk  stood  by  the  window  from  which  the  editorial  eye 
in  its  frenzied  rollings  enjoyed  a  fine  sweep  of  Main  Street. 
To  Phil  Main  Street  ran  round  the  world.  Its  variety  was 
infinite.  No  one  knew  the  ways,  the  interests,  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  Montgomery  better  than  she.  Every  one  was,  in 
a  sense,  a  character.  More  or  less  unconsciously  she  fitted 
them  all  into  little  dramas,  or  sketched  them  with  swift, 
telling  strokes.  The  fact  that  this  Main  Street  summarized 
American  life;  that  there  were  hundreds  of  Main  Streets 
presenting  much  the  same  types,  the  same  mild  encounters 
and  incidents,  appealed  to  her  sense  of  humor.  Her  longest 
journey  in  the  world  had  been  a  summer  excursion  to  New 
England  with  her  father,  and  she  had  been  struck  by  the 
similarity  of  the  phenomena  observable  in  Williamstown, 
Pittsfield,  Northampton  —  and  Montgomery!  In  every 
town,  no  matter  what  its  name,  there  was  always  the  same 
sleepy  team  in  front  of  the  Farmers'  Bank,  the  same  boy 
chasing  his  hat,  the  same  hack-driver  in  front  of  the  hotel, 
the  same  pretty  girl  bowing  to  the  same  delighted  young 
man  near  the  same  town  pump  or  the  soldiers'  monument 
in  the  square. 

Phil  wrote  busily.  It  was  easy  for  her  to  write,  and  when, 


1 7z  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

looking  up  casually,  items  were  suggested  to  her  by  the 
passers-by,  she  returned  to  her  work  with  a  smile  on  her  face. 
Judge  Walters  passed  carrying  a  satchel ;  this  meant  that  he 
had  returned  from  holding  court  in  Boone  County ;  Captain 
Wilson  stumped  by  with  a  strange  young  man  who  Phil 
reasoned  immediately  must  be  the  nephew  he  had  expected 
to  visit  him  during  the  holidays.  The  new  auto-truck  of  the 
express  company,  which  had  long  been  forecast  in  Main 
Street  rumor,  rumbled  by,  and  she  heralded  its  arrival  in  a 
crisp  paragraph.  "Spress,"  the  venerable  dog  that  for  ages 
had  followed  the  company's  old  horse  and  wagon,  was  at  last 
out  of  commission,  Phil's  "  brevity  "  recited.  The  foreman 
came  in  from  the  composing-room,  told  her  gravely  that  the 
paper  was  overset,  and  departed  with  her  copy. 

She  took  up  the  article  relating  to  Sycamore  Traction  and 
read  it  through  to  the  end.  Many  of  the  terms  meant  noth- 
ing to  her ;  but  the  guarded  intimations  of  improper  conduct 
on  the  part  of  the  promoters  and  directors  were  sufficiently 
clear.  What  interested  her  most  of  all  was  the  accusation, 
cautiously  attributed  "to  one  in  a  position  to  know,"  that 
the  estate  of  Samuel  Holton  had  been  so  manipulated  as  to 
conceal  part  of  the  assets,  and  that  a  movement  was  on  foot 
to  reopen  the  estate  with  a  view  to  challenging  the  inven- 
tory. The  names  of  Charles  Holton  and  his  Uncle  William, 
president  of  the  First  National  Bank  of  Montgomery, 
appeared  frequently  in  the  article,  which  closed  with  a 
statement  signed  by  both  men  that  the  stories  afloat  were 
baseless  fabrications;  that  the  company  was  earning  its 
charges  and  that  the  rumors  abroad  through  the  state  were 
the  result  of  a  conspiracy  by  a  number  of  stockholders  to 
seize  control  of  the  company. 

Looking  up,  Phil  saw  her  father  pass  the  window,  and 
before  she  could  knock  on  the  glass  to  attract  his  attention 
he  came  in  hurriedly. 

"'Lo,  daddy!" 

"What  are  you  up  to,  Phil?  Where's  Barker?" 

"Out  taking  the  air.  His  local 's  quit  and  I  'm  doing  a  few 


BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY    173 

literary  gems  for  him."  She  rose  and  leaned  across  the 
counter.  Anxiety  was  plainly  written  on  her  father's  face, 
and  she  surmised  that  something  of  importance  had  brought 
him  back  from  the  city  at  this  hour.  He  had  not  expected 
to  return  until  Saturday,  and  this  was  only  Thursday. 

"I  must  see  Barker.    Where  do  you  suppose  he  went?" 

"  He 's  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  what  to  do  about  that," 
said  Phil,  indicating  the  clipping. 

Kirkwood  took  from  his  pocket  several  sheets  of  type- 
written legal  cap,  and  ran  them  over. 

"I  want  him  to  print  this;  it  must  get  in  to-day.    The 
people  here  must  n't  be  stampeded  by  those  stories.    A 
repetition  of  them  in  the  '  Star '  might  do  great  harm  — 
incalculable  harm  to  the  community  and  to  all  its  interests." 

"It  doesn't  sound  pretty  —  that  piece  in  the  'Adver- 
tiser.'" 

"It's  all  surmise  and  speculation.  That's  what  I've 
been  in  the  city  about  lately;  and  if  they  give  us  a  chance 
we'll  pull  it  out  without  scandal." 

"Suppose  I  write  an  interview  with  you  along  that  line 
and  stick  your  statement  on  the  end  of  it?" 

"I'll  have  to  see  Barker  first:  he's  supposed  to  be  un- 
friendly to  the  Holtons  —  old  political  feeling." 

It  occurred  to  Phil  that  it  was  odd  for  her  father  to  be 
interposing  himself  between  the  Holtons  and  scandalous  in- 
sinuations of  the  press  as  to  their  integrity.  Tom  Kirkwood 
reflected  a  moment,  then  opened  the  gate  in  the  office  railing 
and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"I've  got  to  get  the  twelve  o'clock  train  back,"  he  said, 
"and  this  must  go  in  to-day.  We  must  reassure  the  people 
as  quickly  as  possible." 

She  wrote  an  opening  paragraph  without  further  parley 
and  read  it.  He  made  a  few  changes,  and  then  dictated  a 
statement  as  attorney  for  the  Desbrosses  Trust  &  Guaranty 
Company,  trustee  for  the  Sycamore  bondholders. 

The  stories  set  afloat  at  Indianapolis  were  gross  exagger- 
ations, he  declared,  and  there  was  no  occasion  for  alarm  in 


174  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

any  quarter.  It  was  true  that  the  company  had  suffered 
serious  losses  owing  to  unfortunate  accidents,  but  these  were 
not  of  a  character  to  jeopardize  the  interests  of  bondholders. 
A  thorough  investigation  was  in  progress,  and  judgment 
should  be  reserved  until  the  exact  truth  should  be  known. 
The  trustee  meant  to  safeguard  every  interest  of  the  inves- 
tors. 

Kirkwood  was  lost  in  thought  for  several  minutes,  and 
then  took  a  sheet  of  paper  and  experimented  with  a  number 
of  sentences  until  these  survived  his  careful  editing :  — 

"I  personally  believe  that  the  affairs  of  the  Sycamore 
Traction  Company  will  be  speedily  adjusted  in  a  way  that 
will  satisfy  those  concerned,  and  meanwhile  all  efforts  to 
shake  public  confidence  in  any  of  the  interests  or  institutions 
of  Montgomery  can  only  react  disastrously  upon  those 
guilty  of  such  attempts." 

He  read  this  over  frowningly. 

"I  think  that  will  be  all,  Phil,"  he  said,  handing  her  a 
clean  copy. 

While  she  was  numbering  the  pages,  Barker  came  in  and 
Kirkwood  drew  him  into  a  corner,  where  they  conversed 
earnestly.  The  editor  had  met  that  morning  many  citizens 
who  spoke  bitterly  of  the  Sycamore  Traction  Company. 
The  Indianapolis  "Advertiser's"  circulation  in  Mont- 
gomery was  almost  equal  to  that  of  the  "Evening  Star"; 
and  on  the  wintry  corners  of  Main  Street,  in  the  lobby  of 
the  Morton  House,  and  in  the  court-house,  men  were  specu- 
lating as  to  the  effect  of  the  reports  from  Indianapolis  upon 
the  Holton  bank.  The  Holtons  were  Democrats  and  the 
"Evening  Star"  was  the  Republican  county  organ.  Barker 
disliked  William  Holton  on  personal  grounds  and  here  was 
his  chance  for  reprisal. 

"They're  all  crooks,"  said  the  editor  hotly;  and  cut 
Kirkwood  short  with  "  No  one  knows  that  better  than  you." 

Kirkwood  ignored  this  thrust. 

"It  isn't  your  feeling  or  mine,   Barker,   about   these 


BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY    175 

people.  It's  the  town  and  its  best  interests  we've  got  to 
consider.  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  believe  these  kinks  in 
Sycamore  will  be  straightened  out.  Nobody  knows  more 
about  the  situation  than  I  do.  If  you  repeat  this  'Adver- 
tiser' article,  you'll  start  a  run  on  the  First  National  Bank, 
and  if  it  should  go  down,  it  would  n't  do  any  of  us  any  good, 
would  it?  It  would  n't  help  the  town  any,  would  it?  I  want 
you  to  trust  me  about  this.  There's  no  question  of  news- 
paper enterprise  involved ;  but  there  is  a  chance  for  you  to 
serve  the  community.  The  very  fact  that  you  have  never 
been  friendly  to  the  Holtons  will  give  additional  weight  to 
what  you  print  to-day.  I  'm  not  asking  you  to  smother  this 
talk  as  a  favor  to  me,  but  for  the  good  of  the  town  —  all  of 
us.  And  I  believe  you're  big  enough  and  broad  enough  to 
see  it." 

Barker  was  reluctant  to  yield.  His  paper  was  one  of  the 
most  influential  country  papers  in  the  state.  He  was  proud 
of  its  reputation  and  anxious  to  do  nothing  that  would 
injure  its  hard -won  prestige. 

"That's  all  right,  Kirkwood,  but  how  about  that  swin- 
dling construction  company  the  Holtons  worked  as  a  side 
line?  The  bad  service  the  company  has  given  from  the  start 
pretty  nearly  proves  that  there  was  crooked  work  there. 
How  do  you  get  around  that?" 

"You'll  have  to  believe  what  I  say,  that  we  will  handle  it 
all  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  public.  But  smashing  a  bank 
won't  help  any.  We're  trying  to  manage  in  such  way  that 
no  innocent  party  will  suffer." 

"Well,  there's  nothing  innocent  about  these  Holtons. 
Sam  died  and  got  out  of  it,  but  Will  and  this  young  Charlie 
are  off  the  same  block.  And  now  Jack's  come  back  to  make 
trouble  for  them.  I  don't  see  myself  jumping  in  to  protect 
these  fellows;  if  they've  got  themselves  in  a  hole,  let  them 
wiggle  out." 

"You're  not  talking  like  a  reasonable  human  being, 
Barker.  Try  to  overcome  personal  prejudices.  Just  remem- 
ber that  several  hundred  people  —  our  friends  and  neighbors 


176  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

—  are  going  to  be  hurt  if  the  bank  fails.  I  've  just  headed  off 
Waterman.  He  was  about  to  bring  suit  for  a  receiver  on 
behalf  of  one  of  the  local  bondholders  on  the  ground  of  mis- 
management. That  would  be  a  mistake.  It 's  in  our  plans  to 
bring  up  the  road's  efficiency  at  once.  The  trustee  is  in  a 
position  to  do  that.  I  want  you  to  help  me  quiet  these  dis- 
turbing rumors.  If  I  did  n't  believe  it  would  all  come  out 
right,  I'd  tell  you  so  very  frankly." 

Barker  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  walked  to  his  desk. 
He  read  Phil's  introduction  and  the  accompanying  state- 
ment with  Kirkwood's  name  attached. 

"All  right,  Tom.  But  remember  that  this  is  personal  to 
you;  I  would  n't  do  it  for  any  other  man  on  earth." 

"You're  doing  it  for  the  town,  Barker.  We're  all  friends 
and  neighbors  here;  and  I  give  you  my  word  that  you  won't 
regret  it.  I  've  got  to  run,  Phil.  Sorry;  but  I  '11  be  back  in  a 
day  or  two.  How  are  Nan  and  Rose?" 

"Fine." 

"Nan  staying  with  you?" 

"No;  I've  moved  over  there  for  a  few  days." 

"That's  all  right.   Give  them  my  compliments." 

The  door  closed  on  him  as  Barker  came  back  from  the 
composing-room,  where  he  had  carried  the  Sycamore  article 
and  ordered  it  double-leaded.  Phil,  gathering  up  her  belong- 
ings, lingered  for  a  word.  Barker  ripped  the  wrapper  from 
an  exchange  absently. 

"Phil,  you've  never  suspected  your  father  of  being  a 
little  touched  in  his  upper  story,  have  you?" 

"That  short-circuited;  say  it  some  other  way,"  observed 
Phil,  buttoning  her  glove. 

''That  dad  of  yours,  Phil,  if  he  ain't  plumb  crazy,  is  the 
whitest  white  man  that  ever  trod  the  footstool.  I  always 
suspected  him  of  being  tolerably  highminded,  but  I  guess  if 
ever  a  man  climbed  on  top  of  his  soul  and  knew  that  he  was 
the  boss  of  it  with  the  help  of  Almighty  God,  that  man  is 
Tom  Kirkwood.  It's  got  me  fuddled,  Phil.  It's  addled  me 
like  the  report  of  a  tariff  commission  or  an  argument  for 


BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY    177 

government  ownership  of  laying  hens;  but  I  respect  it,  and  I 
admire  it.  Be  good  to  your  daddy.  So  far  as  I  know  he 
has  n't  any  competition  in  his  class." 

Phil  pondered  this  as  she  walked  toward  Buckeye  Lane. 
It  was  not  necessary  for  her  to  understand  the  intricacies  of 
the  traction  company's  troubles  to  realize  that  her  father 
had  interceded  for  the  Holtons.  Barker's  praise  of  him 
warmed  her  heart.  She  knew  that  her  father  was  by  no 
means  tame  and  bloodless.  In  many  long  talks,  tramping  and 
camping,  they  had  discussed  nearly  every  subject  under  the 
sun;  and  she  knew  that  his  wrath  blazed  sometimes  at  the 
evils  and  wrongs  of  the  world.  Once  she  had  gone  unbidden 
to  the  court-house  to  hear  him  speak  in  a  criminal  case,  where 
he  had  volunteered  to  defend  an  Italian  railroad  laborer 
who  had  been  attacked  by  a  gang  of  local  toughs  and  in  the 
ensuing  fight  had  stabbed  one  of  his  assailants.  Kirkwood 
was  not  an  orator  by  the  accepted  local  standard,  —  a 
standard  established  by  "Dan"  Voorhees  and  General 
"Tom"  Nelson  of  an  earlier  generation,  —  but  that  after- 
noon, after  pitilessly  analyzing  the  state's  case,  he  had 
yielded  himself  to  a  passionate  appeal  for  the  ignorant 
alien  that  had  thrilled  through  her  as  great  music  did.  She 
had  never  forgotten  that ;  it  had  given  her  a  new  idea  of  her 
father.  There  had  been  something  awful  and  terrifying  in 
his  arraignment  of  the  witnesses  who  sought  to  swear  away 
the  cowed  prisoner's  liberty.  Her  father's  gentleness,  his 
habitual  restraint,  had  seemed  finer  and  nobler  after  that. 

In  the  nature  of  her  upbringing  Phil  had  developed  the 
habit  of  thinking  her  way  out  of  perplexities.  Her  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  history  and  traditions  of  Montgomery 
furnished  the  basis  for  a  healthy  philosophy,  and  the  wide 
range  of  her  well-directed  reading  had  opened  doors  that  let 
in  upon  her  intelligence  much  of  the  light  and  shadow  of 
human  experience.  Happiness  was  not,  she  knew,  an  inalien- 
able right,  but  something  to  be  sought  and  worked  for.  Her 
thoughts  played  about  her  father  and  his  life  —  that  broken 
column  of  a  life,  with  its  pathetic  edges !  What  would  become 


1 78  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

of  him  and  Nan,  now  that  she  knew  Nan  loved  him,  and 
imaginably,  he  loved  her?  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 
found  her  face  pressed  against  a  dark  pane,  unable  to  see 

light. 

She  was  conscious  that  some  one  was  walking  rapidly  be- 
hind her,  and  she  whirled  round  as  her  name  was  spoken. 
It  was  Fred  Holton,  who  had  evidently  been  following  her. 
"Why  so  formal!  Why  did  n't  you  whistle?"  she  asked, 
shaking  hands  with  him.  "Those  birds  you  sent  me  were 
meat  for  gods. 

'Then  mighty  Jove, 

Grabbing  the  last  brown  quail  from  off  the  plate, 
Shouted,  "  For  gods  alone  such  food  ";  and  bade 
Dian  to  skip,  with  bow  well  bent,  and  bring 
A  billion  birds  to  grace  another  feast.'  " 

"If  Dian  filled  that  order,"  said  Fred,  "it  would  get  her 
into  trouble  with  the  game  warden." 

"That  was  one  good  thing  about  the  gods,"  remarked 
Phil  as  he  caught  step  with  her;  "they  did  n't  have  to  be 
afraid  of  policemen.  How  did  you  come  to  tear  yourself 
loose  from  Stop  7  to-day?" 

"Trouble,  if  you  want  the  real  truth." 

They  had  reached  the  college  and  were  walking  along  the 
Buckeye  Lane  side  of  the  campus.  Fred  was  wrapped  in  his 
ulster  and  wore  an  old  fur  cap  with  its  ear-flaps  gathered 
up  and  tied  on  top.  Now  that  the  first  pleasure  of  the  meet- 
ing had  passed,  an  anxious  look  had  come  into  his  face.  He 
stared  straight  ahead,  walking  doggedly. 

"I  came  into  town  to  see  your  father,  but  I  just  missed 
him.  I  wanted  to  talk  to  him." 

"He  has  n't  been  in  town  much  lately  and  he  was  only 
here  for  an  hour  this  morning.  But  he'll  be  back  in  a  few 
days." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Fred,  "not  to  see  him  to-day." 

Just  what  business  he  had  with  her  father  she  could  not 
imagine;  but  she  was  sorry  for  his  trouble,  whatever  it 
might  be.  In  her  recent  reflections  touching  the  Holtons  she 


BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY    179 

had  not  thought  of  Fred  at  all ;  nor  did  it  occur  to  her  now 
that  he  was  in  any  way  concerned  with  the  Sycamore  diffi- 
culties. 

"MissKirkwood  — 

"Well,  Mr.  Holton,  if  you  will  be  real  nice,  I  '11  let  you  call 
me  Phil.  I  met  you  before  I  grew  up  —  that  night  I  danced 
in  the  cornfield.  The  moon  introduced  and  chaperoned  us, 
after  a  fashion,  so  we'll  consider  that  you  belong  to  the 
earlier  period  of  what  might  be  called  my  life.  That  was  my 
last  fling.  When  I  came  home  that  night  I  was  a  grown-up. 
How  do  you  like  that,  Fred?" 

"More  than  I  care  to  say!"   And  his  face  lighted. 

He  realized  perfectly  that  knowing  his  diffidence  she  was 
trying  to  make  things  easier  for  him,  just  as  she  had  at  her 
party.  Phil  was  wondering  whether  she  dared  ask  him  to  go 
to  the  Bartletts'  with  her  for  luncheon. 

"It's  lonesome,  Phil,  not  having  anybody  to.  talk  to 
about  your  troubles.  There  are  times  when  we've  got  to 
lean  up  against  advice." 

"They  say  I  never  do  much  leaning,"  Phil  replied.  "My 
aunts  say  it.  There  ought  to  be  a  place  like  a  post-office 
where  you  could  poke  in  a  question  and  get  the  answer  right 
back;  but  there  is  n't." 

"  Our  folks  are  in  a  lot  of  trouble,  according  to  the  papers," 
said  Fred.  "That's  what  I  wanted  to  see  your  father 
about." 

"Oh!" 

"  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  see  him  as  soon  as  possible." 

"I  would  n't  trouble  about  what's  in  the  papers.  That's 
what  my  father  came  back  for  to-day  —  to  head  off  the 
home  papers  about  the  traction  company." 

"Just  how  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  clearly  puzzled.  "I 
thought  he  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  case." 

"Well,  the  'Star'  this  evening  will  say  that  everything 
will  be  all  right,  and  for  people  not  to  get  excited.  I  don't 
see  why  you  should  bother.  You  're  a  farmer  and  not  mixed 
up  in  the  traction  business." 


i8o  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

He  seemed  not  to  notice  when  they  reached  and  passed 
the  Bartletts',  though  she  had  told  him  she  was  going  there 
for  luncheon. 

"They  say  Charlie  didn't  play  straight  in  settling 
father's  estate;  that  it's  going  to  be  opened  up  and  that 
we  've  got  to  give  back  what  we  got  from  it.  The  '  Adver- 
tiser' had  all  that  this  morning.  Perry  brought  me  his 
paper  and  we  talked  it  over  before  I  came  in.  He  said  it 
was  n't  any  of  my  business ;  but  I  think  it  is.  We  owe  it  to 
father  —  all  of  us  —  if  there 's  anything  wrong,  to  show  our 
willingness  to  open  up  the  estate.  I  thought  I  'd  like  to  tell 
your  father  that." 

"We've  got  to  turn  back  here.  I  understand  how  you 
feel,  but  I  can't  advise  you  about  that.  That  article  said  you 
were  n't  responsible  —  it  said  in  very  unpleasant  words  that 
you  had  been  robbed,  and  that  giving  you  the  farm  and 
making  you  think  that  was  your  fair  share  was  a  part  of  the 
fraud.  If  they  should  go  into  that,  you  might  get  a  lot 
more.  Is  n't  that  so?" 

"  I  don't  believe  Charlie  did  it;  I  don't  believe  it  any  more 
than  I  believe  that  my  father  made  money  unfairly  out  of 
the  building  of  the  trolley  line.  But  it 's  up  to  us  to  reply  to 
this  attack  in  a  way  to  stop  all  criticism.  We  can't  have 
people  thinking  such  things  about  us,"  he  went  on  more 
earnestly.  "It's  ghastly!  And  I'm  going  to  surrender  the 
farm;  I  won't  keep  it  if  these  things  are  true  or  half  true.  I 
won't  hold  an  acre  of  it  until  these  questions  are  settled!" 

"That  sounds  square  enough.  But  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it.  Just  on  general  principles,  as  long  as  you're  not 
mixed  up  in  the  fuss,  I  'd  hang  on  to  my  farm,  particularly  if 
you  were  entitled  to  more  than  you  got.  But  you  need  a 
lawyer,  not  a  girl  to  talk  to." 

"I  suppose  that's  so;  and  I  ought  n't  to  have  talked  to 
you  about  it  at  all.  But  somehow  — " 

They  had  reached  the  Bartletts'  again  and  Phil  paused 
with  her  hand  on  the  gate.  She  had  decided  not  to  ask  him 
in  to  luncheon;  his  mood  was  not  one  that  promised  well  for 


BEST  INTERESTS  OF  MONTGOMERY    181 

a  luncheon  party;  and  Nan,  at  least,  had  clearly  manifested 
her  unfriendliness  toward  all  the  Holtons. 

"Somehow,  I  felt  that  I  'd  like  to  tell  you  how  I  felt  about 
it.  I  should  n't  want  you  to  think  we  were  as  bad  as  that 
story  in  the  'Advertiser'  makes  us  out." 

"That's  all  right,  Fred.  This  will  all  come  out  right"; 
and  Phil  swung  open  the  gate  and  stepped  into  the  little 
yard. 

"I  want,"  said  Fred,  detainingly,  speaking  across  the 
gate;  "I  want  you  to  think  well  of  me!  I  care  a  good  deal 
about  what  you  think  of  me!" 

"Oh,  everybody  thinks  well  of  you!"  answered  Phil,  and 
caught  up  the  drumstick  and  announced  herself. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TURKEY   RUN 

A  WEEK  before  Christmas  Mrs.  William  Holton  gave  a 
sleigh-ride  and  skating-party  for  a  niece  from  Memphis,  and 
Phil  was  invited.  She  mentioned  the  matter  to  her  father, 
and  asked  him  what  she  should  do  about  it. 

He  had  come  back  from  Indianapolis  in  good  spirits,  and 
told  her  that  the  affairs  of  the  traction  company  had  been 
adjusted  and  that  he  hoped  there  would  be  no  more  trouble. 
He  seemed  infinitely  relieved  by  the  outcome,  and  his  satis- 
faction expressed  itself  to  her  observing  eyes  in  many  ways. 
The  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  his  old  friend,  the  counsel 
of  the  Desbrosses  Trust  &  Guaranty  Company,  had  not  only 
pleased  him,  but  the  success  that  had  attended  his  efforts  to 
adjust  the  traction  company's  difficulties  without  resorting 
to  the  courts  had  strengthened  his  waning  self-confidence. 
He  even  appeared  in  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  and  with  his 
beard  cut  shorter  than  he  usually  wore  it,  —  changes  that 
evoked  the  raillery  in  which  Phil  liked  to  indulge  herself. 
He  was  promised  the  care  of  certain  other  Western  interests 
of  the  Trust  Company,  and  he  had  been  offered  a  partner- 
ship in  Indianapolis  by  one  of  the  best  lawyers  in  the  state. 

"Things  are  looking  up,  Phil.  If  another  year  had  gone 
by  in  the  old  way,  I  should  have  been  ready  for  the  scrap 
heap.  But  I  miss  the  cooking  our  poverty  introduced  me 
to ;  and  I  shan't  have  any  more  time  for  fooling  with  excur- 
sions into  Picardy  with  the  Gray  Knight.  By  the  way,  I 
found  some  strange  manuscript  on  my  desk  at  the  office 
to-day.  If  you  've  take  up  the  literary  life  you  '11  have  to  be 
careful  how  you  leave  your  vestigia  in  lawyers'  offices.  It 
was  page  eighteen  of  something  that  I  took  the  liberty  of 
reading,  and  I  thirsted  for  more." 


TURKEY  RUN  183 

She  had  not  told  him  about  "The  Dogs  of  Main  Street," 
wishing  to  wait  until  she  could  put  the  magazine  contain- 
ing it  into  his  hands.  Under  the  stimulus  of  the  acceptance 
of  her  sketch  she  had  been  scratching  vigorously  in  her 
spare  moments.  Having  begun  with  dogs  she  meditated  an 
attack  upon  man,  and  the  incriminating  page  she  had  left 
behind  in  her  father's  office  was  a  part  of  a  story  she  was 
writing  based  upon  an  incident  that  had  occurred  at  a 
reunion  of  Captain  Wilson's  regiment  that  fall  in  Mont- 
gomery. A  man  who  had  been  drummed  out  of  the  regiment 
for  cowardice  suddenly  reappeared  among  his  old  comrades 
with  an  explanation  that  restored  him  to  honored  fellow- 
ship. Phil  had  elaborated  the  real  incident  as  Captain 
Wilson  described  it,  and  invested  it  with  the  element  of 
"suspense,"  which  she  had  read  somewhere  was  essential  to 
the  short  story. 

Phil  was  living  just  now  in  a  state  of  exaltation.  She 
began  a  notebook  after  the  manner  of  Hawthorne's,  and  was 
astonished  at  the  ease  with  which  she  filled  its  pages.  Now 
that  her  interest  was  aroused  she  saw  "material"  every- 
where. The  high  school  had  given  her  German  and  French, 
and  having  heard  her  father  say  that  the  French  were  the 
great  masters  of  fiction,  she  addressed  herself  to  Balzac 
and  Hugo.  The  personalities  of  favorite  contemporaneous 
writers  interested  her  tremendously,  and  she  sought  old  files 
of  literary  periodicals  that  she  might  inform  herself  as  to 
their  methods  of  work.  She  kept  Lamb  and  Stevenson  on  the 
stand  by  her  bed  and  read  them  religiously  every  night. 
There  had  never  been  any  fun  like  this!  Her  enjoyment  of 
this  secret  inner  life  was  so  satisfying  that  she  wished  no  one 
might  ever  know  of  it.  She  wrote  and  rewrote  sentences  and 
paragraphs,  thrust  them  away  into  the  drawers  of  the  long 
table  in  her  room  to  mellow  —  she  had  got  this  phrase  from 
Nan,  —  and  then  dug  them  out  in  despair  that  they  seemed 
so  lifeless.  She  planned  no  end  of  books  and  confidently  set 
down  titles  for  these  unborn  masterpieces.  Nan  and  Rose 
marked  the  change  in  her.  At  times  she  sat  with  her  chin 


i84  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

in  her  hand  staring  into  vacancy.  The  two  women  specu- 
lated about  this  and  wondered  whether  her  young  soul 
was  not  in  the  throes  of  a  first  love  affair. 

Now  that  fortune  smiled  upon  her  father  Phil's  happiness 
marked  new  attitudes,  with  no  cloud  to  darken  the  misty- 
blue  horizons  of  her  dreams.  She  meant  to  be  very  good  to 
her  father.  And  as  to  his  marrying  Nan,  she  was  giving 
much  time  to  plots  for  furthering  their  romance. 

"Fred  Hoi  ton  was  looking  for  you  the  other  day.  I 
suppose  you  have  n't  seen  him." 

"Yes;  he  came  to  Indianapolis  and  saw  me  at  the  hotel. 
I  remember  that  he  was  at  your  party,  but  I  don't  recall 
how  you  got  acquainted  with  him?" 

Phil  laughed. 

"Oh,  that  last  night  we  camped  at  Turkey  Run  I  wan- 
dered off  by  myself  and  met  him  in  the  funniest  fashion, 
over  by  the  Holton  barn.  They  were  having  a  dance  — 
Charlie  and  Ethel,  and  Fred  was  watching  the  revel  from 
afar,  and  saw  me  dancing  like  an  idiot  round  the  corn- 
shocks.  And  I  talked  to  him  across  the  fence  and  watched 
the  dance  in  the  barn  until  you  blew  the  horn.  I  did  n't  tell 
you  about  it  because  it  seemed  so  silly  —  and  then  I  thought 
you  would  n't  like  my  striking  up  acquaintances  with  those 
people.  But  Fred  is  nice,  I  think." 

"He  seems  to  be  a  very  earnest  young  person.  He  came 
to  me  on  a  business  matter  in  a  spirit  that  is  to  his  credit." 

Phil  had  decided,  in  view  of  Nan's  unlooked-for  arraign- 
ment, to  give  her  father  another  chance  to  express  himself  as 
to  her  further  social  relations  with  the  Holtons. 

"  Daddy  dear,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  honestly  whether  you 
have  any  feeling  about  those  people,"  she  said  when  they 
were  established  at  the  fireside  for  the  evening.  "Of  course, 
you  know  that  one's  aunts  were  responsible  for  asking  them 
to  Amy's  party;  it  was  n't  Amy's  doings;  but  if  you  want  me 
to  keep  clear  of  them  I  '11  do  it.  Please  tell  me  the  truth  — 
just  how  you  feel  about  it." 

"Phil,"  said  Kirkwood,  meeting  her  eyes  steadily,  "those 


TURKEY  RUN  185 

aunts  of  yours  are  silly  women  —  with  vain,  foolish,  absurd 
ideals.  They  did  n't  consult  me  about  asking  the  Holtons 
because  I  'm  a  stupid  old  frump,  and  it  did  n't  make  any 
difference  whether  I'd  like  it  or  not.  But  I'm  eternally 
grateful  that  they  did  it;  and  I  'm  glad  that  other  man  came 
back  just  as  he  did.  For  all  those  things  showed  me  that  the 
years  have  blotted  out  any  feeling  I  had  against  them.  I 
have  n't  a  bit,  Phil.  Maybe  I  ought  to  have;  but  however 
that  may  be  there 's  no  bitterness  in  my  soul.  And  I  'm  glad 
I  've  discovered  that ;  it 's  a  greater  relief  to  me  than  I  can 
describe." 

His  smile,  the  light  touch  he  gave  her  hands,  carried 
conviction.  The  discussion  seemed  to  afford  him  relief. 

"So  far  as  the  Holtons  concern  me,  there's  peace  between 
our  houses.  It's  perfectly  easy  for  a  man  to  shoot  another 
who  has  done  him  a  wrong;  but  it  does  n't  help  any,  for, "  — 
and  he  smiled  the  smile  that  Phil  loved  in  him  —  "for  the 
man  being  dead  can't  know  how  much  his  enemy  enjoys  his 
taking  off!  Murder,  as  a  fine  art,  Phil,  falls  short  right 
there." 

He  had  not  mentioned  her  mother;  and  Phil  wondered 
whether  she  too  shared  this  amnesty.  It  was  inconceivable 
that  he  should  have  forgiven  the  man  if  he  still  harbored 
hatred  of  the  woman. 

With  a  sudden  impulse  she  rose  and  caught  his  face  in  her 
hands. 

"Why  don't  you  marry  Nan,  daddy?" 

She  saw  the  color  deepen  in  his  cheeks  and  a  startled  look 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"What  madness  is  this,  Phil?"  he  asked,  with  an  effort  at 
lightness. 

"It  means  that  I  think  it  would  be  nice  —  nice  for  you 
and  Nan  and  nice  for  me.  I  can  see  her  here,  sitting  right 
there  in  that  chair  that  she  always  sits  in  when  she  comes. 
I  think  it  would  be  fun  —  lots  of  fun  for  her  to  be  here 
all  the  time,  so  we  would  n't  always  be  trailing  over 
there." 


1 86  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

He  laughed;  she  felt  that  he  was  not  sorry  that  she  had 
spoken  of  Nan. 

"Are  we  always  trailing  over  there?  I  suppose  they  really 
are  our  best  friends.  But  there  is  Rose,  you  know.  Wouldn't 
she  look  just  as  much  at  home  in  her  particular  chair  as 
Nan?" 

"Well,  Rosens  fine,  too,  but  Rose  is  different." 

"Oh,  you  think  there's  a  difference,  do  you?" 

He  picked  up  a  book,  turned  over  the  leaves  idly,  and 
when  he  spoke  again  it  was  not  of  Nan. 

"If  you  want  to  go  to  Mrs.  Hoi  ton's  party  it's  all 
right,  Phil.  I  suppose  most  of  the  young  people  will  be 
there." 

"Yes;  it's  a  large  party." 

"Then  go  and  have  a  good  time.  And  Phil  — " 

"Yes,  daddy." 

"  Be  careful  what  foolish  notions  you  get  into  your  head." 

Mrs.  William  Holton  undeniably  did  things  with  an  air. 
It  may  have  been  an  expression  of  her  relief  at  having  dis- 
posed of  Jack  Holton  so  quickly  and  effectively  —  he  had 
vanished  immediately  after  his  interview  with  William  in  the 
bank  —  that  her  sleigh-ride  and  skating-party  as  originally 
planned  grew  into  a  function  that  well-nigh  obscured  Phil's 
"coming-out."  It  began  with  a  buffet  luncheon  at  home, 
followed  by  the  ride  countryward  in  half  a  dozen  bob-sleds 
and  sleighs  of  all  descriptions.  It  was  limited  to  the  young 
people,  arid  Phil  found  that  all  her  friends  were  included. 
Ethel  and  Charles  Holton  had  come  over  from  Indianapolis 
to  assist  their  aunt  in  her  entertainment. 

"Mighty  nice  to  find  you  here!"  said  Charles  to  Phil  as 
he  stood  beside  her  on  the  sidewalk  waiting  for  their  ap- 
pointed "bob."  "And  you  may  be  sure  I'm  glad  to  get  a 
day  off.  I  tell  you  this  business  life  is  a  grind.  It 's  what 
General  Sherman  said  war  is.  I  suppose  your  father  told 
you  what  a  time  we've  been  having  straightening  out  the 
traction  tangle.  Scandal  —  most  outrageous  lying  —  but 


TURKEY  RUN  187 

that  father  of  yours  is  a  master  negotiator.  He  ought  to  be 
in  the  diplomatic  service." 

He  looked  at  her  guardedly  with  a  quick  narrowing  of  the 
eyes. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  it  wasn't  really  so  serious,"  said  Phil 
indifferently.  "  Father  never  brings  business  home  with  him 
and  I  only  know  that  I  don't  like  having  him  away  so 
much." 

"Yes,"  said  Holton,  "I  don't  doubt  that  you  miss  him. 
But  Montgomery  is  getting  gay.  Over  in  Indianapolis 
there's  more  doing,  of  course,  and  bigger  parties;  but  they 
don't  have  the  good  old  home  flavor.  It's  these  informal 
gatherings  of  boys  and  girls  who  have  known  each  other  all 
their  lives  that  count." 

It  was  the  brightest  of  winter  days,  with  six  inches  of 
snow,  and  cold  enough  to  set  young  blood  tingling.  They  set 
off  with  a  merry  jingling  of  bells  and  drove  through  town  to 
advertise  their  gayety  before  turning  countryward.  The 
destination  was  Turkey  Run,  that  fantastic  anomaly  of  the 
Hoosier  landscape,  where  Montgomery  did  much  of  its 
picnicking. 

A  scout  sent  ahead  the  day  before  had  chosen  a  stretch  of 
ice  where  the  creek  broadened  serenely  after  its  bewilder- 
ingly  tumultuous  course  through  the  gorge.  There  the  ice 
was  even  and  solid  and  the  snow  had  been  scraped  away. 
In  the  defile,  sheltered  by  its  high  rocky  banks,  bonfires 
were  roaring.  The  party  quickly  divided  itself  into  twos  — 
why  is  it  that  parties  always  effect  that  subdivision  with  any 
sort  of  opportunity?  —  and  the  skaters  were  off. 

Phil  loved  skating  as  she  loved  all  sports  that  gave  free 
play  to  her  strong  young  limbs.  The  hero  of  the  Thanks- 
giving football  game  had  attached  himself  to  her,  but  Phil, 
resenting  his  airs  of  proprietorship,  deserted  him  after  one 
turn. 

As  her  blood  warmed,  her  spirits  rose.  The  exercise  and 
the  keen  air  sent  her  pulses  bounding.  It  was  among  the 
realizations  of  her  new  inner  life  that  physical  exercise 


188  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

stimulated  her  mental  processes.  To-day  lines,  verses,  coup- 
lets —  her  own  or  fragments  of  her  reading  —  tumbled 
madly  over  each  other  in  her  head.  No  one  ranged  the  ice 
more  swiftly  or  daringly.  She  had  put  aside  her  coat  and 
donned  her  sweater  —  not  the  old  relic  of  the  basketball 
team,  but  a  new  one  from  her  fall  outfit,  which  included  also 
the  prettiest  of  fur  toques.  The  color  was  bright  in  her 
cheeks  and  the  light  shone  in  her  eyes  as  she  moved  up  and 
down  the  course  with  long,  even  strides  or  let  herself  fly  at 
the  boundaries,  or  turned  in  graceful  curves.  Skating  was 
almost  as  much  fun  as  swimming,  and  even  better  fun  than 
paddling  a  canoe. 

She  kept  free  of  companions  for  nearly  an  hour,  taunting 
those  who  tried  to  intercept  her,  and  racing  away  from 
several  cavaliers  who  combined  in  an  effort  to  corner  her. 
Then  having  gained  the  heights  of  her  imaginings,  she  was 
ready  to  be  a  social  being  once  more. 

Charles  Holton,  who  had  viewed  her  flights  with  admira- 
tion as  he  helped  the  timid  and  awkward  tyros  of  the  com- 
pany, swung  into  step  with  her. 

"It's  wonderful  how  you  do  it?  Please  be  kind  to  me  a 
mere  mortal!" 

He  caught  her  pace  and  they  moved  along  together  at 
ease.  Her  mood  had  changed  and  she  let  him  talk  all  he 
liked  and  as  he  liked.  They  had  met  twice  at  parties 
since  she  had  snubbed  him  at  Amzi's  the  night  of  her  presen- 
tation, and  he  had  made  it  plain  that  he  admired  her.  He 
contrasted  advantageously  with  the  young  gentlemen  of 
Montgomery.  He  was  less  afraid  of  being  polite,  or  his 
politeness  was  less  self-conscious  and  showed  a  higher  polish. 
He  had  twice  sent  her  roses  and  once  a  new  novel,  and  these 
remembrances  had  not  been  without  their  effect.  It  was 
imaginable  that  his  tolerance  of  the  simple  sociabilities  of 
Montgomery  was  attributable  to  an  interest  in  Phil,  who 
dreamed  a  great  deal  these  days ;  and  there  was  space  enough 
in  the  ivory  tower  of  her  fancy  to  enshrine  lovers  innum- 
erable. Charles  was  a  personable  young  man,  impressionable 


TURKEY  RUN  189 

and  emotional,  and  not  without  imagination  of  his  own. 
Her  humor,  and  the  healthy  common-sense  philosophy  that 
flowered  from  it,  were  the  girl's  only  protection  from  her 
own  emotionalism  and  susceptibility.  Even  in  the  larger 
world  of  the  capital  there  was  no  girl  as  pretty  as  Phil, 
Charles  assured  himself ;  she  was  not  only  agreeable  to  look 
at,  but  she  piqued  him  by  her  indifference  to  his  advances. 
His  usual  cajoleries  only  provoked  retorts  that  left  him 
blinking,  not  certain  whether  they  were  intended  to  humble 
him  or  to  stimulate  him  to  more  daring  efforts. 

"You're  the  only  girl  in  the  bunch  who  skates  as  though 
she  loved  it.  You  do  everything  as  though  it  was  your  last 
hour  on  earth  and  you  meant  to  make  the  most  of  it.  I  like 
that.  It's  the  way  I  feel  about  things  myself.  If  I  had  your 
spirit  I'd  conquer  the  world." 

"Well,  the  world  is  here  to  be  conquered,"  said  Phil. 
"What  peak  have  you  picked  to  plant  your  flag  on?" 

"Oh,  I  want  money  first  —  you've  got  to  have  it  these 
days  to  do  things  with ;  and  then  I  think  I  'd  like  power. 
I  'd  go  in  for  politics  —  the  governor's  chair  or  the  senate. 
If  father  had  n't  died  he  could  have  got  the  governorship  easy ; 
he  was  entitled  to  it  and  it  would  have  come  along  just  in  the 
course  of  things.  What  would  you  like  to  do  best  of  all?" 

"If  I  told  you,  you  would  n't  believe  it.    I  don't  want  a 
thing  I  have  n't  got  —  not  a  single  thing.  On  a  day  like  this 
everything  is  mine  —  that  long  piece  of  woods  over  there  — 
black  against  the  blue  sky  —  and  the  creek  underfoot  —  I 
could  n't  ask  for  a  single  other  thing!" 

"But  there  must  be  a  goal  you  want  to  reach  —  every- 
body has  that." 

"Oh,  you're  talking  about  to-morrow!  and  this  is  to-day. 
And  sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  joy  thereof.  If  I  ever  told 
anybody  what  I  mean  to  do  to-morrow,  it  would  be  spoiled. 
I  'm  full  of  dark  secrets  that  I  never  tell  any  one." 

"But  you  might  tell  me  —  I'm  the  best  possible  person 
to  tell  secrets  to." 

"  I  can't  be  sure  of  that,  when  I  hardly  know  you  at  all." 


1 90  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"That's  mighty  cruel,  you  know,  when  I  feel  as  though  I 
had  known  you  always." 

He  tried  to  throw  feeling  into  this,  but  the  time  and  place 
and  her  vigorous  strides  over  the  ice  did  not  encourage 
sentiment. 

"You  ought  n't  to  tell  girls  that  you  feel  you  have  known 
them  always.  It  is  n't  complimentary.  You  ought  to  ex- 
press sorrow  that  they  are  so  difficult  to  know  and  play  the 
card  that  you  hope  by  great  humility  and  perseverance  one 
day  to  know  them.  That  is  the  line  I  should  take  if  I  were 
a  man." 

He  laughed  at  this.  There  were  undoubted  fastnesses  in 
her  nature  that  were  not  easily  attainable.  She  seemed  to 
him  amazingly  mature  in  certain  ways,  and  in  others  she 
was  astonishingly  childlike. 

"They  say  you're  a  genius;  that  you're  going  to  do 
wonderful  things,"  he  said. 

"Who  says  it?"  asked  Phil  practically,  but  not  without 
interest. 

"Oh,  my  aunt  says  it;  she  says  other  people  say  it." 

"Well,  my  aunts  haven't  said  it,"  remarked  Phil. 
"According  to  them  my  only  genius  is  for  doing  the  wrong 
thing." 

"  We  need  n't  any  of  us  expect  to  be  appreciated  in  our 
own  families.  That's  always  the  way.  You  read  a  lot, 
don't  you?" 

"  I  like  to  read;  but  you  can  read  a  lot  without  being  a 
genius.  Geniuses  don't  have  to  read  —  they  know  it  all 
without  reading.  So  there's  that." 

"I'll  wager  you  write,  too;  —  confess  now  that  you  do!" 

"Letters  to  my  father  when  he's  away  from  home  —  one 
every  night.  But  he  is  n't  away  very  much." 

"  But  stories  and  things  like  that.  Yes ;  don't  deny  it:  you 
mean  to  be  a  writer!  I  'm  sure  you  can  succeed  at  that.  Lots 
of  women  do;  some  of  the  best  writers  are  women.  You  will 
write  novels  like  —  like  —  George  Eliot." 

Phil  lattghed  her  derision  of  the  idea. 


TURKEY  RUN  191 

"She  knew  a  lot;  more  than  I  could  ever  know  if  I  studied 
all  my  life.  But  there's  only  one  George  Eliot;  I'm  hardly 
likely  —  just  Phil  Kirkwood  in  Montgomery,  Indiana,  —  to 
be  number  two." 

The  direction  of  the  talk  was  grateful  to  her.  It  was  pleas- 
ant to  feel  the  warmth  of  his  interest  in  her  new  secret  aims 
without  having  to  acknowledge  them.  It  was  flattering  that 
he  surmised  the  line  of  her  interests,  and  spoke  of  them  so 
kindly  and  sympathetically. 

"  I  try  to  do  some  reading  all  the  time,"  he  went  on;  "but 
a  business  man  has  n't  much  chance.  Still,  I  usually  keep 
something  worth  while  on  the  center  table,  and  when  I 
travel  I  carry  some  good  book  with  me.  I  like  pictures,  too, 
and  music ;  and  those  things  you  miss  in  a  town  like  Mont- 
gomery." 

"Well,  Montgomery  is  interesting  just  the  same,"  said 
Phil  defensively.  "The  people  are  all  so  nice  and  folksy." 

He  hastened  to  disavow  any  intention  of  slurring  the 
town.  He  should  always  feel  that  it  was  home,  no  matter 
how  far  he  might  wander.  He  explained,  in  the  confidence 
that  seemed  to  be  establishing  itself  between  them,  that 
there  was  a  remote  possibility  that  he  might  return  to 
Montgomery  and  go  into  the  bank  with  his  uncle,  who 
needed  assistance.  It  was  desirable,  he  explained,  to  keep 
the  management  of  the  bank  in  the  hands  of  the  family. 

"You  know,"  he  went  on,  "they  printed  outrageous 
stories  about  all  of  us  in  the  'Advertiser.'  They  were  the 
meanest  sort  of  lies,  but  I  'd  like  you  to  know  that  we  met 
the  issue  squarely.  I  've  turned  over  to  your  father  as  trustee 
all  the  property  they  claimed  we  had  come  by  dishonestly. 
The  world  will  never  know  this,  for  your  father  shut  up  the 
newspapers  —  it  was  quite  wonderful  the  way  he  managed 
it  all ;  —  and,  of  course,  it  does  n't  make  any  difference  what 
the  world  thinks.  This  was  my  affair,  the  honor  of  my  fam- 
ily, and  a  matter  of  my  own  conscience." 

Her  knowledge  of  the  traction  muddle  was  sufficient  to 
afford  a  background  of  plausibility  for  this  highminded 


1 92  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

renunciation.  There  was  something  likable  in  Charles  Hoi- 
ton.  His  volubility,  which  had  prejudiced  her  against  him 
in  the  beginning,  seemed  now  to  speak  for  a  frankness  that 
appealed  to  her.  There  was  no  reason  for  his  telling  her  these 
things  unless  he  cared  for  her  good  opinion ;  and  it  was  not 
disagreeable  to  find  that  this  man,  who  was  ten  years  her 
senior  and  possessed  of  what  struck  her  as  an  ample  experi- 
ence of  life,  should  be  at  pains  to  entrench  himself  in  her 
regard. 

As  she  made  no  reply  other  than  to  meet  his  eyes  in  a  look 
of  sympathetic  comprehension,  he  went  on :  — 

"You  won't  mind  my  saying  that  we  were  all  terribly 
cut  up  over  Uncle  Jack's  coming  back  here;  but  I  guess  we  've 
disposed  of  him.  I  don't  think  he's  likely  to  trouble  Mont- 
gomery very  much.  Uncle  Will  had  it  out  with  him  the  day 
after  he  showed  up  so  disgracefully  at  your  party;  and,  of 
course,  Uncle  Jack  would  never  have  done  that  if  he  had 
been  himself.  He  went  to  Indianapolis  and  tried  to  make  a 
lot  of  trouble  for  all  of  us,  but  that  was  where  your  father 
showed  himself  the  fine  man  he  is.  I  guess  it  is  n't  easy  to 
put  anything  over  on  that  father  of  yours;  he's  got  the 
brains  and  character  to  meet  any  difficulty  squarely." 

Phil  murmured  her  appreciation.  They  had  paused  in  the 
middle  of  the  course  and  were  idly  cutting  figures,  keeping 
within  easy  conversational  range. 

"Your  initials  are  hard  to  do,"  said  Holton,  backing  into 
line  beside  her  and  indicating  the  letters  his  skates  had 
traced  on  the  surface.  The  "P.  K."  was  neatly  done.  Phil 
without  comment  etched  a  huge  "  C  "  and  then  cut  an  "  H  " 
within  its  long  loop. 

"Splendid!  You  are  the  best  skater  I  ever  saw!  I'd  like 
to  cut  that  out. and  keep  it  in  cold  storage  as  a  souvenir." 

This  did  not  please  her  so  much  as  his  references  to  her 
hidden  ambitions,  and  seeing  that  she  failed  to  respond,  and 
fearing  one  of  her  taunts,  he  led  the  way  toward  the  gorge. 
It  was  four  o'clock,  and  already  shadows  were  darkening 
the  deep  vale  where  most  of  the  skaters  had  now  gathered 


TURKEY  RUN  193 

about  the  bonfires.  Phil's  popularity  was  attested  by  the 
tone  in  which  the  company  greeted  her.  She  sat  down  on  a 
log  and  entered  into  their  give-and-take  light-heartedly, 
while  Holton  unfastened  her  skates.  He  had  found  her  coat 
and  thrown  it  round  her  shoulders.  He  was  very  thoughtful 
and  attentive,  and  his  interest  in  her  had  not  gone  unre- 
marked. 

"We  were  just  wondering,"  said  one  of  the  girls,  "whether 
anybody  here  was  sport  enough  to  scale  that  wall  in  the 
winter?  We've  saved  that  for  you,  Phil." 

Phil  lifted  her  head  and  scanned  the  steep  slope.  She  had 
scaled  it  often ;  in  fact  one  of  her  earliest  remembered  adven- 
tures had  been  an  inglorious  tumble  into  the  creek  as  the 
reward  of  her  temerity.  That  was  in  her  sixth  year  when  she 
had  clambered  up  the  cliff  a  few  yards  in  pursuit  of  a 
chipmunk. 

"I  have  n't  done  that  for  several  moons;  but  I  have 
done  it,  children.  There  would  n't  be  any  point  in  doing  it, 
of  course,  if  anybody  else  had  done  it  —  I  mean  to-day,  with 
ice  all  over  the  side." 

"You  mustn't  think  of  it,  Phil,"  said  Mrs.  Holton, 
glancing  up  anxiously. 

"I  shan't  think  of  it,  Mrs.  Holton,  unless  somebody  says 
it  can't  be  done.  I  'm  not  going  to  take  a  dare." 

"Just  for  that,"  said  Charles,  "  I  'm  going  to  do  it  myself." 

"  Better  not  tackle  it,"  said  one  of  the  college  boys,  eyeing 
the  cliff  critically.  "I've  done  it  in  summer,  and  it's 
hard  enough  then;  but  you  can  see  how  the  ice  and  snow 
cover  all  the  footholds.  You  'd  have  to  do  it  with  ropes  the 
way  they  climb  the  Alps." 

Holton  looked  at  Phil  as  she  sat  huddled  in  her  coat.  It 
was  in  her  eyes  that  she  did  not  think  he  would  attempt  it, 
and  he  resented  her  lack  of  faith  in  his  courage. 

"I  don't  think,"  she  remarked,  helping  herself  to  a  sand- 
wich, "that  anybody  's  going  to  be  cruel  enough  to  make 
me  do  it." 

"If  I  do  it,"  said  Holton,  "no  one  else  will  ever  have  to 


i94  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

try  it  again  in  winter.  It  will  be  like  discovering  the  North 
Pole  —  there's  nothing  in  it  for  the  second  man." 

"You're  not  going  to  try  it!  Please  don't!"  cried  Mrs. 
Hoi  ton.  "If  you  got  hurt  it  would  spoil  the  party  for 
everybody." 

"Don't  worry,  Aunt  Nellie.  It's  as  easy  as  walking 
home." 

He  was  already  throwing  off  his  overcoat,  measuring  the 
height  and  choosing  a  place  for  his  ascent. 

Amid  a  chorus  of  protests  and  taunts  he  began  climbing 
rapidly.  Phil  rose  and  watched  him  with  sophisticated  eyes 
as  he  began  mounting.  She  saw  at  once  that  he  had  chosen 
the  least  fortunate  place  in  the  whole  face  of  the  declivity 
for  an  ascent.  There  were  two  or  three  faintly  scratched 
paths,  by  which  the  adventurous  sometimes  struggled  to  the 
top,  and  she  had  herself  experimented  with  all  of  them ;  but 
Holton  had  essayed  the  most  precipitous  and  hazardous 
point  for  his  attempt. 

At  the  start  he  sprang  agilely  up  the  limestone  which  for 
a  distance  thrust  out  rough  shelves  with  ladder-like  regu- 
larity; and  when  this  failed,  he  caught  at  the  wild  tangle  of 
frozen  shrubbery  and  clutched  the  saplings  that  had  hope- 
fully taken  root  wherever  patches  of  earth  gave  the  slightest 
promise  of  succor.  As  his  difficulties  increased  a  hush  fell 
upon  the  spectators. 

He  accomplished  half  the  ascent,  and  paused  to  rest, 
clinging  with  one  hand  to  a  slender  maple.  He  turned  and 
waved  his  cap,  and  was  greeted  with  a  cheer. 

"Better  let  it  go  at  that!"  called  one  of  the  young  men. 
"Come  on  back." 

Charles  flung  down  a  contemptuous  answer  and  addressed 
himself  to  the  more  difficult  task  beyond.  Particles  of  ice  and 
frozen  earth  detached  by  his  upward  scramble  clattered  down 
noisily.  Withered  leaves,  shaken  free  from  niches  where  the 
winds  had  gathered  them,  showered  fitfully  into  the  valley. 
He  began  drawing  himself  along  by  shrubs  and  young  trees 
that  covered  a  long  outward  curve  in  the  face  of  the  cliff. 


TURKEY  RUN  195 

Those  below  heard  the  crackle  of  frozen  twigs,  and  the 
swish  of  released  boughs  that  marked  his  progress.  Phil 
stood  watching  him  with  an  absorbed  interest  in  which  fear 
became  dominant.  Better  than  the  others  Phil  knew  the 
perils  of  the  cliff,  the  scant  footholds  offered  by  even  the 
least  formidable  points  in  the  rough  surface. 

He  was  rounding  the  bulging  crag  with  its  sparse  vegeta- 
tion when,  as  he  seemed  to  have  cleared  it  safely,  a  sapling 
that  he  had  grasped  for  a  moment  yielded,  and  he  tumbled 
backward. 

Those  below  could  see  his  frantic  struggles  to  check  his 
descent  as  his  body  shot  downward  with  lightning-like 
swiftness.  A  short  clump  of  bushes  caught  and  held  him  for 
an  instant,  then  gave  way,  and  they  saw  him  struggling  for 
another  hold.  Then  a  shelf  of  rock  caught  him.  He  lay  flat 
for  a  moment  afraid  to  move,  and  those  below  could  not  see 
him.  Then  he  sat  up  and  waved  his  cap,  and  shouted  that  he 
was  safe. 

The  awe-struck  crowd  hardly  knew  what  Phil  was  doing 
until  she  had  crossed  the  ice  and  begun  to  climb.  While 
Charles  was  still  crashing  downward,  she  had  run  to  a 
favorable  point  her  quick  eyes  had  marked  and  was  climb- 
ing up  a  well-remembered  trail.  The  snow  and  ice  had  in- 
creased its  hazards,  and  an  ominous  crackling  and  snap- 
ping of  twigs  attended  her  flight. 

"Come  back!  Come  back!"  they  called  to  her.  Half  a 
dozen  young  men  plunged  after  her;  but  already  well 
advanced,  she  cried  to  them  not  to  follow. 

"Tell  him  to  stay  where  he  is,"  she  called;  and  was  again 
nimbly  creeping  upward.  There  was  no  way  to  arrest  or 
help  her,  and  she  had  clearly  set  forth  with  a  definite  pur- 
pose and  could  not  be  brought  back.  Cries  of  horror  marked 
every  sound  as  her  white  sweater  became  the  target  of 
anxious  eyes. 

The  white  sweater  paused,  hung  for  tremulous  instants, 
was  lost  and  discernible  again.  A  frozen  clod,  loosened  as 
she  clutched  at  the  projecting  roots  of  a  young  beech, 


196  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

ricocheted  behind  her.  Her  course,  paralleling  that  taken 
by  Holton,  was  about  ten  yards  to  the  left  of  it.  To  those 
below  it  seemed  that  her  ascent  was  only  doubling  the  hour's 
peril.  Charles,  perched  on  the  rock  that  had  seemingly  flung 
out  its  arm  to  save  him,  was  measuring  his  chances  of  escape 
without  knowing  that  Phil  was  climbing  toward  him. 

As  she  drew  nearer  he  heard  the  sounds  of  her  ascent,  and 
peering  over  saw  the  sweater  dangling  like  a  white  ball  from 
the  cliff-side. 

"Go  down,  Phil!  You  can't  make  it;  nobody  can  do 
it!  Tell  the  boys  to  get  a  rope,"  he  shouted.  "Please  go 
back!" 

Already  messengers  had  run  for  assistance,  but  the  little 
canon  in  its  pocket-like  isolation  was  so  shut  in  that  it  was  a 
mile  to  the  nearest  house. 

Along  the  tiny  thread  of  a  trail,  transformed  by  sleet  and 
snow  until  it  was  scarcely  recognizable,  Phil  pressed  on 
steadily.  Charles,  seeing  that  she  would  not  go  back, 
ceased  his  entreaties,  fearing  to  confuse  or  alarm  her.  Her 
hands  caught  strong  boughs  with  certainty;  the  tiny  twigs 
slapped  her  face  spitefully.  Here  and  there  she  flung  herself 
flat  against  the  rocky  surface  and  crept  guardedly ;  then  she 
was  up  dancing  from  one  vantage-point  to  another,  until 
finally  she  paused,  clinging  to  a  sapling  slightly  above 
Holton.  When  she  had  got  her  breath  she  called  an  "All 
right!"  that  echoed  and  reechoed  through  the  valley. 

"You  thought  you  could  do  it,  didn't  you?"  she  said 
mockingly;  "and  now  I've  had  to  spoil  my  clothes  to  get 
you  off  that  shelf." 

"For  God's  sake,  stay  where  you  are!  There's  nothing 
you  can  do  for  me.  The  boys  have  gone  round  to  bring  a 
rope,  and  until  they  come  you  must  stay  right  there! " 

Phil,  still  panting,  laughed  derisively. 

"You're  perfectly  ridiculous  —  pinned  to  a  rock  like 
Prometheus  —  Simeon  on  his  pillar!  But  it  wouldn't  be 
dignified  for  you  to  let  the  boys  haul  you  up  by  a  rope. 
You'd  never  live  that  down.  They'll  be  years  getting  a 


TURKEY  RUN  19? 

rope;  and  it  would  be  far  from  comfortable  to  sit  there  all 
night." 

While  she  chaffed  she  was  measuring  distances  and  cal- 
culating chances.  The  shelf  which  had  caught  him  was  the 
broader  part  of  a  long  edge  of  outcrop.  Phil  beat  among  the 
bushes  to  determine  how  much  was  exposed,  but  the  ledge 
was  too  narrow  for  a  foothold. 

"Please  stop  there  and  don't  move!"  Hoi  ton  pleaded. 
"If  you  break  your  neck,  I  'd  never  forgive  myself,  and  I  'd 
never  be  forgiven." 

Phil  laughed  her  scorn  of  his  fears  and  began  creeping 
upward  again.  The  situation  appealed  to  her  both  by  reason 
of  its  danger  and  its  humor;  there  was  nothing  funnier  than 
the  idea  of  Charlie  Holton  immured  on  a  rock,  waiting  to  be 
hauled  up  from  the  top  of  the  cliff.  She  meant  to  extricate 
him  from  his  difficulties :  she  had  set  herself  the  task ;  it  was 
like  a  dare.  Her  quick  eyes  searching  the  rough  slope  noted 
a  tree  between  her  and  the  shelf  where  Holton  clung,  watch- 
ing her  and  continuing  his  entreaties  not  to  heed  him,  but  to 
look  out  for  her  own  safety.  Its  roots  were  well  planted  in  an 
earthy  cleft  and  its  substantial  air  inspired  confidence.  It 
had  been  off  the  line  of  his  precipitous  descent  and  he  had 
already  tried  to  reach  it;  but  in  the  cautious  tiptoeing  to 
which  his  efforts  were  limited  by  the  slight  margin  of  safety 
afforded  by  the  rock  he  could  not  touch  it. 

"  If  I  swing  down  from  that  tree  and  reach  as  far  as  I  can, 
you  ought  to  be  able  to  catch  my  hand ;  and  if  you  can  I  '11 
pull,  and  you  can  make  your  feet  walk  pitty-pat  up  the 
side." 

Her  face,  aglow  from  the  climb,  hung  just  above  him.  She 
had  thrown  off  her  hat  when  she  began  the  ascent  and  her 
hair  was  in  disorder.  Her  eyes  were  bright  with  excitement 
and  fun.  It  was  immensely  to  her  liking  —  this  situation: 
her  blood  sang  with  the  joy  of  it.  She  addressed  him  with 
mocking  composure. 

"It's  so  easy  it  is  n't  right  to  take  the  money." 

He  protested  that  it  was  a  foolish  risk  when  he  would 


i98  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

certainly  be  rescued  in  a  short  time.  She,  too,  must  remain 
where  she  was  until  the  ropes  were  brought. 

"They  never  do  that  way  in  books,"  said  Phil.  "If  I'd 
taken  that  tumble,  some  man  would  have  rescued  me;  and 
now  that  you  're  there,  it 's  only  fair  that  I  should  pull  you 
off.  If  I  had  n't  as  good  as  told  you  you  could  n't,  you 
would  n't  be  there.  That's  the  simple  philosophy  of  that. 
All  ready !  Here  goes ! ' ' 

Clinging  to  the  tree  with  her  knees  to  get  a  better  grip  she 
swung  herself  down  as  far  as  possible.  The  sapling  bent,  but 
held  stoutly.  Holton  ceased  protesting,  held  up  his  arms  to 
catch  her  if  she  fell;  then  as  she  repeated  her  "ready,"  he 
tiptoed,  but  barely  touched  her  finger-tips.  She  drew  back 
slowly  to  gather  strength  for  another  effort.  It  was  the 
most  foolhardy  of  undertakings.  Only  the  tree,  with  its 
questionable  hold  upon  the  cliff-side,  held  her  above  the 
gorge.  She  strained  her  arms  to  the  utmost;  their  finger- 
tips touched  and  she  clasped  his  hand.  There  was  a  tense 
moment;  then  her  aid  making  it  possible,  he  dug  his  feet  into 
the  little  crevices  of  the  rocky  surface  and  began  creeping  up. 

Once  begun  there  was  no  letting  go.  The  maple  under 
their  combined  weight  curved  like  a  bow.  Phil  set  her  teeth 
hard;  her  arms  strained  until  it  seemed  they  would  break. 
Then,  as  Holton  began  to  aid  himself  with  his  free  hand,  his 
weight  diminished,  and  in  one  of  these  seconds  of  relief,  Phil 
braced  herself  for  a  supreme  effort  and  drew  him  toward  her 
until  he  clutched  the  tree.  He  dragged  himself  up,  and  flung 
himself  down  beside  her.  Neither  spoke  for  several  min- 
utes. Those  of  the  party  who  remained  below  were  now 
calling  wildly  to  know  what  had  happened. 

"Trumpet  the  tidings  that  we  are  safe,"  said  Phil  when 
she  had  got  her  breath. 

"That  was  awful;  horrible!  What  did  you  do  it  for?  It 
was  so  absurd  —  so  unnecessary!"  he  cried,  relief  and  anger 
mingling  in  his  tone.  "The  horror  of  it  —  I  '11  never  get  over 
it  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  Forget  it,"  said  Phil.  "  It  was  just  a  lark.  But  now  that 


TURKEY  RUN  199 

it 's  over,  I  '11  confess  that  I  thought  for  about  half  a  second 
—  just  before  you  began  edging  up  a  little  —  that  I  'd  have 
to  let  go.  But  don't  you  ever  tell  anybody  I  said  so;  that's 
marked  confidential." 

The  note  was  obviously  forced.  Her  heart  still  pounded 
hard  and  weariness  was  written  plainly  in  her  face.  Now 
that  the  stress  of  the  half -hour  had  passed,  she  was  not 
without  regret  for  what  she  had  done.  Her  father  would  not 
be  pleased;  her  uncle  would  rebuke  her  sharply;  her  aunts 
would  shudder  as  much  at  the  publicity  her  wild  adventure 
was  sure  to  bring  her  as  at  the  hazard  itself.  She  was  con- 
scious of  the  admiration  in  Helton's  eyes;  conscious,  indeed, 
of  something  more  than  that. 

"  I  want  to  know  that  you  did  that  for  me:  I  must  think 
so!"  he  said  hoarsely. 

His  lips  trembled  and  his  hands  shook.  Her  foolhardiness 
had  placed  both  their  lives  in  jeopardy.  It  pleased  him  to 
think  that  she  had  saved  his  life  —  whereas  in  strictest 
truth  she  had  only  added  to  his  peril. 

"I  didn't  do  it  for  you:  I  did  it  for  fun,"  she  replied 
shortly ;  and  yet  deep  down  in  her  heart  she  did  not  dislike 
his  words  or  the  intense  manner  in  which  he  spoke  them. 
Her  dallyings  with  boys  of  her  own  age,  with  only  now  and 
then  a  discreet  flirtation  with  one  of  the  college  seniors, 
comprised  her  personal  experiences  of  romance. 

"You  are  beautiful  —  wonderful!  Yours  is  the  bravest 
soul  in  the  world.  I  loved  you  the  day  I  first  saw  you  in  your 
father's  office.  Phil—" 

For  a  moment  his  hand  lay  upon  hers  that  was  trembling 
still  from  its  grip  of  the  tree. 

"We  must  climb  to  the  top;  the  joke  will  be  spoiled  if  we 
let  them  help  us,"  she  cried,  springing  to  her  feet.  "Come! 
The  way  will  be  easier  along  the  old  path." 

Across  the  vale  some  one  hallooed  to  them.  Her  white 
sweater  was  clearly  printed  against  the  cliff  and  a  man  on 
the  edge  of  the  farther  side  stood  with  the  light  of  the 
declining  sun  playing  round  him.  The  ravine  narrowed 


200  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

here  and  the  distance  across  was  not  more  than  a  hundred 
yards. 

Phil  fluttered  her  handkerchief. 

"It's  Fred!  "she  said.   "See!  There  by  the  big  sycamore." 

Fred  waved  his  cap,  then  dropped  his  arm  to  his  side  and 
stood,  a  sentinel-like  figure,  at  the  edge  of  his  acres,  etched 
in  heroic  outline  against  the  winter  sky.  His  trousers  were 
thrust  into  his  boots;  the  collar  of  the  mackinaw  coat  he 
wore  at  his  work  was  turned  up  about  his  throat.  He  leaned 
upon  an  axe  with  which  he  had  been  cutting  the  coarser 
brush  in  the  fence  corners.  The  wind  ruffled  his  hair  as  he 
stood  thus,  in  the  fading  light.  He  had  been  busy  all  after- 
noon and  quite  unmindful  of  his  aunt's  party,  to  which,  for 
reasons  sufficient  to  that  lady,  he  had  not  been  bidden. 

A  sense  of  his  rugged  simplicity  and  manliness  seemed  to 
be  borne  to  Phil  across  the  ravine.  Something  in  Fred  Hoi- 
ton  touched  her  with  a  kind  of  pathos  —  there  was  in  him 
something  of  her  father's  patience,  and  something  of  his 
capacity  for  suffering.  As  she  looked  he  swung  the  axe  upon 
his  shoulders  and  struck  off  homeward  across  the  fields. 

Charles  sprang  ahead  of  her  and  began  the  remainder  of 
the  ascent.  It  was  he  who  was  now  impatient. 

"We  must  hurry  unless  you  want  the  crowd  to  carry 
us  up." 

"Let  me  go  ahead,"  she  answered,  ignoring  the  hand  he 
reached  down  to  her,  and  eager  to  finish  the  undertaking. 
"  There 's  nothing  hard  about  the  rest  of  it  and  I  know  every 
inch  of  the  path." 


CHAPTER  XV 

LOIS 

A  LADY  stepped  from  the  westbound  train  at  Montgomery 
just  at  nightfall  on  the  day  before  Christmas.  The  porter 
of  the  parlor  car  pulled  down  more  luggage  than  travellers 
usually  bring  to  Montgomery,  and  its  surfaces  were  plas- 
tered with  steamship  and  hotel  labels.  Amzi  Montgomery, 
who  had  been  lurking  in  the  shadow  of  the  baggage-room  for 
some  time,  advanced  and  shook  hands  hurriedly. 

"Well,  Lois!" 

"Well,  Amzi!" 

In  the  electric-lighted  shed  the  lady  might  have  been 
seen  to  smile  at  the  brevity  and  colorlessness  of  this  ex- 
change, or  possibly  at  the  haste  with  which  Amzi  was  cross- 
ing the  platform  to  the  hack-stand. 

"  Here  are  my  checks,  please,  Amzi.  Don't  be  discouraged 
—  there  are  only  six  of  them!"  she  said  cheerfully;  her 
remarks  being  punctuated  by  the  thump  of  her  trunks  as 
they  were  tumbled  out  of  the  baggage-car.  She  stood  glanc- 
ing about  with  careless  interest  while  Amzi  shouted  for  the 
transfer  man.  She  trailed  her  umbrella  composedly  as  she 
idled  about  the  platform,  refreshing  herself  with  deep  in- 
halations of  the  crisp  December  air,  while  Amzi  ordered  the 
trunks  delivered  to  his  own  house. 

Her  brother's  perturbation  was  in  no  wise  reflected  in 
Mrs.  Helton's  manner.  To  all  appearances  she  was  at  peace 
with  the  world,  and  evidently  the  world  had  treated  her 
kindly.  Her  handsome  sables  spoke  for  prosperity,  her  hat 
for  excellent  taste;  she  was  neatly  gloved  and  booted.  She 
gave  an  impression  of  smoothness  and  finish.  In  her  right 
hand  she  carried  a  tiny  purse,  which  she  loosened  carelessly 


202  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

from  time  to  time,  letting  it  swing  by  its  chain,  and  catch- 
ing it  again  with  a  graceful  gesture. 

"The  town  may  have  changed,"  she  remarked,  when 
Amzi  came  back  and  put  her  into  the  dingy  carriage,  "but 
the  hacks  have  n't.  I  recall  the  faint  bouquet  of  old  times. 
That  must  be  the  court-house  clock,"  she  continued,  peeping 
from  the  window.  "They  were  building  the  new  court- 
house about  the  time  I  left.  I  miss  something ;  it  must  be  the 
old  familiar  jiggle  of  the  streets.  Asphalt?  Really!  I  sup- 
pose the  good  citizens  have  screamed  and  protested  at  the 
improvements,  as  good  citizens  always  do.  It's  stuffy  in 
here.  If  you  don't  mind,  Amzi,  we'll  have  some  air." 

She  gave  the  strap  a  jerk  and  the  window  dropped  with 
a  bang. 

"How's  your  asthma  these  days?  You  never  speak  of 
yourself  in  your  letters,  and  when  I  saw  you  in  Chicago  I 
did  n't  like  your  wheeze." 

"Thunder!  I  haven't  got  the  asthma.  I'm  as  fit  as 
a  fiddle.  Doctors  tell  me  to  watch  my  blood  pressure  and 
cut  off  my  toddies.  Remember?  I  used  to  like  'em  pretty 
well." 

' '  Verily  you  did ! "  —  and  she  laughed  merrily.  ' '  You  used 
to  mix  a  toddy  about  once  a  month  as  near  as  I  can  remem- 
ber. Frightful  dissipation!  Unless  you've  changed  might- 
ily, you're  a  model,  Amzi;  a  figure  to  point  young  men  and 
maidens  to.  Whee ! ' '  she  exclaimed  as  the  hack  rattled  across 
the  interurban  track  in  Main  Street,  "behold  the  lights! 
Not  so  different  from  Paris  after  all.  What  did  I  see  there  — 
Hastings's  Theater?  Did  n't  that  use  to  be  the  Grand  Opera 
House?  What  a  fall,  my  countrymen!  That  must  be  where 
our  illustrious  brother-in-law  holds  forth  in  royal  splendor. 
What's  his  first  name,  Amzi?" 

"Lawrence,"  he  replied,  and  she  saw  him  grin  broadly  as 
the  light  from  an  overhead  lamp  shone  upon  them.  "That 's 
what  Phil  calls  him." 

"Phil's  at  home,  of  course?" 

This  was  her  first  reference  to  Phil,  and  she  had  spoken 


LOIS  203 

of  her  daughter  carelessly,  casually.  Amzi  shuffled  his  feet 
on  the  hack  floor. 

"I  guess  Phil's  back;  she's  been  in  Indianapolis.  Phil's 
all  right.  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  Phil." 

He  was  so  used  to  declaring  Phil's  all-rightness  to  his 
other  sisters  that  the  defensive  attitude  was  second  nature. 
His  tone  was  not  lost  upon  Lois  and  she  replied  quickly :  — 

"Of  course,  Phil's  all  right;  I  just  wondered  whether  she 
were  at  home." 

"She's  with  Tom,"  Amzi  added;  and  as  the  hack  had 
reached  his  house  he  clambered  out  and  bade  the  driver 
carry  in  the  bags. 

She  paused  midway  of  the  walk  that  led  in  from  the  street 
and  surveyed  the  near  landscape.  This  had  been  her  father's 
house,  and  there  within  a  stone's  throw  stood  the  cottage 
in  which  she  had  begun  her  married  life.  The  street  lights 
outlined  it  dimly,  and  her  gaze  passed  on  to  the  other  houses 
upon  the  Montgomery  acres,  in  which  her  sisters  lived. 
These  had  not  been  there  when  she  left,  and  the  change 
they  effected  interested  her,  though,  it  seemed,  not  deeply. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  white- jacketed  Negro. 

"This  is  my  sister,  Mrs.  Holton,  Jerry.  You  can  take 
her  things  right  up  to  the  front  room." 

"Yes,  sah.  Good-evenin',  ma'am;  good-evenin'.  Mighty 
fine  weather  we're  havin';  yes,  ma'am,  it  shore  is  cole." 

He  helped  her  deftly,  grinning  with  the  joy.of  his  hospitable 
race  in  "company,"  and  pleased  with  the  richness  of  the 
coat  he  was  hanging  carefully  on  the  old  rack  in  the  hall. 

"Tell  Sarah  we'll  have  supper  right  away.  Want  to  go 
to  your  room  now,  Lois?" 

"Thanks,  no;  I'm  hungry  and  the  thought  of  food 
interests  me.  You  don't  dress  for  dinner,  do  you,  Amzi?" 

"Thunder,  no!  I'll  put  on  my  slippers  and  change  my 
collar.  Back  in  a  minute." 

As  he  climbed  the  stairs  she  gave  herself  an  instant's 
inspection  in  the  oblong  gilt-framed  mirror  over  the  draw- 
ing-room mantel,  touching  her  hair  lightly  with  her  fingers, 


204  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

and  then  moved  through  the  rooms  humming  softly.  When 
Amzi  came  down  she  met  him  in  the  hall. 

"Well,  old  fellow,  it's  wonderful  how  you  don't  change! 
You  're  no  fatter  than  you  were  twenty  years  ago,  but  your 
hair  has  gone  back  on  you  scandalously.  Kiss  me!" 

She  put  her  arm  round  his  neck  and  when  the  kiss  had 
been  administered,  patted  his  cheeks  with  her  small  delicate 
hands.  Supper  was  announced  immediately  and  she  put 
her  arm  through  his  as  they  walked  to  the  dining-room. 

"It's  a  dear  old  house,  just  as  it  always  was;  and  it's 
like  your  sentimental  old  soul  to  hang  on  to  it.  Sentiment 
counts,  after  all,  Amzi.  Too  bad  you  had  to  be  a  banker, 
when  I  distinctly  remember  how  you  used  to  drive  us  all 
crazy  with  your  flute ;  and  you  did  spout  Byron  —  you 
know  you  did!  You  ought  to  travel;  there's  nothing  like 
it — a  sentimental  pilgrimage  would  brighten  you  up.  If  I 
could  n't  move  around  I  'd  die.  But  I  always  was  a  restless 
animal.  Dear  me!  If  this  is  n't  the  same  old  dinner  service 
father  bought  when  we  were  youngsters.  It 's  wonderful  that 
you  've  kept  it;  but  I  don't  miss  a  thing.  You've  even  hung 
on  to  the  old  double-barreled  pickle  thing  and  the  revolv- 
ing castor." 

She  tasted  her  soup  with  satisfaction. 

"I  can  see  that  you  are  not  averse  to  the  fleshpots.  I 
dare  say  your  bachelor  establishment  is  a  model.  Don't  the 
neighbors  try  to  break  in  and  steal  the  help?  As  I  remember 
Fanny  she  always  took  the  easiest  way  round.  Which  is 
Kate's  house,  the  one  beyond  the  next,  or  the  third?" 

"The  second ;  she  came  next.  There 's  nothing  in  between 
your  old  house  and  Kate's  place." 

Amzi  met  his  sister's  eyes  with  a  scrutiny  that  expressed 
mild  surprise  that  she  should  thus  make  necessary  a  refer- 
ence to  her  former  domicile,  and  with  somewhat  less  interest 
than  she  had  taken  in  the  ancestral  china.  To  Amzi  her 
return  was  a  fact  of  importance,  and  since  receiving  her 
telegram  from  New  York  announcing  her  visit  to  Mont- 
gomery he  had  been  in  the  air  as  to  its  meaning.  Jack 


LOIS  205 

Helton's  appearance  only  a  few  weeks  earlier  still  agitated 
the  gossips.  He  assumed  that  Lois  knew  nothing  of  this, 
as,  indeed,  she  did  not;  but  there  was  nothing  in  his  knowl- 
edge of  his  sister  to  encourage  the  belief  that  she  would 
have  cared  if  she  had  known.  His  old  love  for  her  warmed 
his  heart  as  he  watched  her  across  the  table.  In  the  one 
interview  he  had  had  with  her  after  her  flight,  —  an  hour's 
talk  in  Chicago,  —  he  had  not  so  fully  realized  as  now,  in 
this  domestic  setting,  how  gracefully  she  bore  her  years 
and  her  griefs!  It  was  this  that  puzzled  him.  Sorrow  was 
not  written  in  her  still  youthful  face,  nor  was  it  published 
in  her  fine  brown  eyes.  They  were  singularly  lovely  eyes  — 
retaining  something  of  their  girlish  roguishness.  His  mas- 
culine eye  saw  no  hint  of  gray  in  her  brown  hair.  She  was 
astonishingly  young,  not  only  in  appearance  but  in  man- 
ner, and  her  vivacity  —  her  quick  smile,  her  agreeable 
murmurous  laughter  —  deepened  his  sense  of  her  charm. 
She  had  not  only  been  his  favorite  sister  in  old  times;  but 
through  all  these  years  he  had  carried  her  in  his  heart. 
And  though  his  restraint  yielded  before  her  good  humor 
he  was  appalled  by  the  situations  —  no  end  of  them !  — 
created  by  her  return. 

Not  a  soul  knew  of  her  coming.  As  he  reflected  that  his 
sisters  were  even  then  dining  tranquilly  in  their  several 
domiciles,  quite  oblivious  of  the  erring  Lois's  proximity, 
he  inwardly  chuckled.  They  had  for  years  been  "poor- 
Loising"  Lois,  and  Jack  Helton's  re-appearance  had 
strengthened  their  belief  that  she  was  in  straitened  cir- 
cumstances, a  pensioner  on  Amzi;  and  they  deplored  any 
drain  upon  resources  to  which  they  believed  themselves  or 
their  children  after  them  justly  entitled.  They  would  be 
outraged  to  learn  that  the  prodigal  had  reentered  by  the 
front  door  of  her  father's  house,  followed  by  a  wagonload 
of  trunks,  presumably  filled  with  fine  raiment. 

Amzi  did  not  know  what  had  brought  her  back,  nor  did 
he  care,  now  that  he  saw  her  across  his  table,  enjoying 
tearlessly  her  fricassee  chicken,  and  sipping  the  claret  he 


206  OTHERWISE   PHYLLIS 

always  produced  for  a  guest.  The  penitential  husks  which 
her  sisters  would  have  thought  proper  in  the  circumstances 
were  not  for  Lois.  He  could  not  imagine  her,  no  matter  how 
grievously  she  might  sin,  as  meekly  repenting  in  sackcloth 
and  ashes.  He  wondered  just  what  she  meant  to  do  now 
that  she  had  come  back ;  he  wondered  what  her  sisters  and 
the  rest  of  Montgomery  would  do!  The  situation  inter- 
ested him  impersonally.  It  sufficed  for  the  moment  that 
she  was  there,  handsome,  cheerful,  amusing,  for  he  had 
been  seriously  troubled  about  her  of  late.  He  was  aware 
that  a  lone  woman,  with  her  history,  and  blessed  or  cursed 
with  her  undeniable  charm,  is  beset  by  perils,  and  it  was 
a  comfort  to  see  her  under  his  roof,  with  no  visible  traces 
of  the  rust  of  time. 

She  smiled  into  his  eyes  and  lifted  her  glass. 

"To  the  old  house,  Amzi!" 

He  saw  her  lips  quiver  and  her  eyes  fill.  There  was  sincere 
feeling  in  her  voice,  but  the  shadow  upon  her  spirit  was  a 
fleeting  one. 

"  I  'm  going  to  run  up  and  change  my  shoes,"  she  said  as 
they  left  the  table,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  heard  the  click 
of  her  heels  as  she  came  down. 

"This  is  much  cozier,"  she  remarked,  resting  her  smart 
pumps  on  the  fender  beside  his  worn  leathern  slippers. 
" Now  tell  me  about  the  girls ;  how  do  they  get  on?  " 

He  sketched  for  her  briefly  the  recent  history  of  the  fam- 
ily, replying  to  her  constant  interruptions  with  the  frank- 
ness she  demanded.  Waterman  she  remembered;  she  had 
never  seen  Fosdick  or  Hastings.  Amzi's  description  of  Hast- 
ings amused  her,  and  she  laughed  gayly  at  her  brother's 
account  of  the  former  actor's  efforts  to  lift  the  local  dra- 
matic standard. 

"So  that's  what  Kate  did,  is  it?  Well,  I  suppose  she  has 
had  some  fun  spending  her  money  on  him.  Alec  Waterman 
was  always  an  absurd  person,  but  from  what  you  say  I 
judge  Josie  has  held  on  to  her  money  better  than  the  others. 
Alec  never  had  sense  enough  to  be  a  big  spender." 


LOIS  207 

"Thunder!"  Amzi  ejaculated.  "Josie's  broke  like  the 
rest  of  'em.  Alec  has  a  weakness  for  gold  mines.  That's 
cost  a  heap,  and  he  does  n't  earn  enough  practicing  law  to 
pay  for  the  ice  in  Josie's  ice-box.  Fosdick  lives  up  in  the 
air  —  away  up,  clean  out  of  sight.  I  figure  that  as  a  floor- 
walker in  a  department  store  Hastings  would  be  worth 
about  twelve  dollars  a  week;  and  Fosdick  might  succeed 
as  barker  for  a  five-legged  calf  in  a  side-show;  but  Alec's 
place  in  the  divine  economy  is  something  I  have  never 
placed,  and  I  defy  any  man  to  place  it!" 

Amzi  was  enjoying  himself.  It  was  with  real  zest  that 
he  hit  off  his  brothers-in-law  to  this  sister,  who  afforded  him 
an  outlet  for  long-stifled  emotions.  He  had  been  honestly 
loyal  to  the  three  homekeeping  sisters  and  to  their  husbands 
also  for  that  matter;  and  the  fact  that  he  could  at  last  let 
himself  go  deepened  his  sense  of  the  sympathy  and  the  un- 
derstanding that  had  always  existed  between  him  and  Lois. 
He  hated  fuss;  and  his  other  sisters  were  tiresomely  fussy 
and  maddeningly  disingenuous.  In  half  an  hour  Lois  had 
learned  all  she  cared  to  know  of  the  family  history.  She 
merely  dipped  into  the  bin,  brought  up  a  handful  of 
wheat,  blew  away  the  chaff,  eyed  the  remaining  kernels  with 
a  sophisticated  eye,  and  tossed  them  over  her  shoulder. 

"As  near  as  I  can  make  out  they're  all  broke;  is  that 
about  it?" 

"Just  about,"  Amzi  replied.  "They  have  n't  mortgaged 
their  homes  yet,  but  if  Mrs.  Bill  Holton  turns  up  with  a  new 
automobile  next  spring  or  gets  some  specially  dazzling  rags, 
I  expect  to  see  three  nice  fresh  mortgages  on  those  homes  out 
there." 

"Ah!  Mrs.  William  sets  the  pace,  does  she?  It's  a  good 
thing  father  died  before  he  saw  the  Montgomerys  trying 
to  keep  up  with  the  Holtons.  William  prospers?" 

"Judged  by  Mrs.  Bill's  doings  he  does.  By  the  way,  Jack 
has  been  back  here." 

Amzi  turned  to  see  what  effect  the  mention  of  Jack 
Holton  would  have  upon  her;  but  in  no  wise  embar- 


208  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

rassed,  with  only  a  slight  lifting  of  the  brows,  she  said 
quickly:  — 

"  I  thought  it  likely.  I  suppose  William  ran  to  meet  him 
—  general  love-feast  and  all  that?" 

They  were  approaching  delicate  ground ;  but  it  seemed  as 
well  to  go  on  and  be  done  with  it.  He  told  her,  more  fully 
than  he  had  recounted  any  other  incident  of  the  sixteen 
years,  of  Phil's  party;  of  the  insistence  of  her  sisters  upon 
a  reconciliation  with  the  William  Holtons,  and  of  Jack's 
appearance  on  the  threshold.  His  indignation  waxed  hot; 
the  enormity  of  the  offense  was  intensified  by  the  fact  that 
he  was  describing  it  to  Lois ;  it  seemed  even  more  flagrantly 
directed  against  her,  now  that  he  thought  of  it,  than  to  Phil 
or  Phil's  father.  He  rose  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire 
as  he  dilated  upon  it.  Lois  frowned  once  or  twice,  but  at  the 
end  she  laughed,  her  light  little  laugh,  saying:  — 

"And  William  has  got  rid  of  him,  of  course." 

"  Oh,  they  had  it  out  the  next  day  at  the  bank,  but  Jack 's 
not  far  away.  He's  been  in  Indianapolis  making  trouble. 
He  resented  being  kicked  out  of  the  bank  —  which  is  about 
what  it  came  to.  And  Bill  bounced  him  with  reason.  He 's 
in  trouble.  In  spite  of  automobiles  and  the  fine  front  they 
put  up  generally,  Bill  and  the  First  National  are  not  so  all- 
fired  prosperous.  Tom's  been  trying  to  fix  things  up  for 
them." 

"Tom  Kirkwood?"  She  frowned  again  at  the  mention 
of  her  first  husband,  but  appeared  interested,  listening 
attentively  as  he  described  the  Sycamore  Traction  difficul- 
ties. 

"Samuel  always  was  a  bad  case.  So  it 's  come  to  this,  that 
Tom  is  trying  to  keep  William  out  of  jail?  It's  rather  a 
pretty  situation,  as  you  think  of  it,"  she  murmured.  "Just 
how  does  Tom  get  on?" 

"Tom  did  n't  get  on  at  all  for  a  long  time;  but  whenever 
he  was  pushed  into  a  case  he  burnt  himself  up  on  it.  Tom 
was  always  that  kind  of  a  fellow  —  if  the  drums  beat  hard 
enough  he  would  put  on  his  war  paint  and  go  out  and  win 


LOIS  209 

the  fight.  There 's  a  dreamy  streak  in  Tom ;  I  guess  he  never 
boiled  out  all  the  college  professor  he  had  in  him ;  but  he 's 
to  the  front  now.  They  think  a  lot  of  him  over  at  Indian- 
apolis; he 's  had  a  chance  to  go  into  one  of  the  best  law  firms 
there.  He's  got  brains  in  his  head  —  and  if  — " 

His  jaws  shut  with  a  snap,  as  he  remembered  that  his 
auditor  was  a  woman  who  had  weighed  Tom  Kirkwood  in 
the  balance  and  found  him  wanting.  Lois  noted  his  abrupt 
silence.  She  had  clasped  her  knees  and  bent  forward,  staring 
musingly  into  the  fire,  as  he  began  speaking  of  Kirkwood. 
Amzi's  cheeks  filled  with  the  breath  that  had  nearly  voiced 
that  "if." 

"If  he  had  n't  married  a  woman  who  did  n't  appreciate 
him  and  who  wrecked  his  life  for  him,  there 's  no  telling  what 
he  might  have  done." 

She  finished  his  sentence  dispassionately,  and  sat  back  in 
her  chair ;  and  as  he  blinked  in  his  fear  of  wounding  her  by 
anything  he  might  say,  she  took  matters  in  her  own  hands. 

"I  was  a  fool,  Amzi.  There  you  have  it  all  tied  up  in  a 
package  and  labeled  in  red  ink ;  and  we  need  n't  ever  speak 
of  it  again.  It 's  on  the  shelf  —  the  top  one,  behind  the  door, 
as  far  as  I  'm  concerned.  I  have  n't  come  back  to  cry  over 
spilt  milk,  like  a  naughty  dairymaid  who  trips  and  falls  on 
the  cellar  steps.  I  ought  to ;  I  ought  to  put  on  mourning  for  , 
myself  and  crawl  into  Center  Church  on  my  knees  and  ask 
the  Lord's  forgiveness  before  the  whole  congregation.  But 
I  'm  not  going  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  One  reason  is  that 
it  would  n't  do  me  any  good ;  and  the  other  is  that  I  'd  never 
get  out  of  the  church  alive.  They 'd  tear  me  to  pieces !  It's 
this  way,  Amzi,  that  if  we  were  all  made  in  the  same  mould 
you  could  work  out  a  philosophy  from  experience  that  would 
apply  to  everybody ;  but  the  trouble  is  that  we  're  all  differ- 
ent. I'm  different;  it  was  because  I  was  different  that  I 
shook  Tom  and  went  off  with  Jack.  Of  course,  the  other 
man  is  a  worthless  cur  and  loafer ;  that 's  where  fate  flew  up 
and  struck  at  me  —  a  deserved  blow.  But  when  I  saw  that 
I  had  made  a  bad  break,  I  did  n't  sit  down  and  sob ;  I  merely 


OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

tried  to  put  a  little  starch  into  my  self-respect  and  keep 
from  going  clear  downhill.  Tom's  probably  forgotten  me 
by  this  time;  he  never  was  much  of  a  hater  and  I  guess 
that's  what  made  me  get  tired  of  him.  He  always  had  the 
other  cheek  ready,  and  when  I  annoyed  him  he  used  to  take 
refuge  in  the  Greek  poets,  who  did  n't  mean  anything  to  me." 

She  smiled  as  though  the  recollection  of  the  Greek  poets 
amused  her  and  ran  on  in  her  low,  musical  voice :  — 

"When  I  saw  I  'd  drawn  a  blank  in  Jack  Holton,  it  really 
did  n't  bother  me  so  much  as  you  might  think.  Of  course, 
I  was  worried  and  humiliated  at  times ;  and  there  were  days 
when  I  went  into  the  telegraph  office  and  went  through  the 
motions  of  sending  for  you  to  come  and  fish  me  out  of  my 
troubles.  I  tore  up  half  a  dozen  of  those  messages,  so  you 
never  heard  me  squeal ;  and  then  I  began  playing  my  own 
game  in  my  own  way.  I  hung  a  smile  on  the  door,  so  to 
speak,  and  did  my  suffering  inside.  For  ten  years  Jack  never 
knew  anything  about  me  —  the  real  me.  For  a  long  time 
I  could  n't  quite  come  to  the  point  of  shaking  him,  and  he 
could  n't  shake  me, — he  could  n't  without  starving";  and 
she  smiled  the  ghost  of  a  grim  little  smile.  "I  suppose  I 
was  n't  exactly  in  a  position  to  insist  on  a  husband's  fidel- 
ity, but  when  he  began  to  be  a  filthy  nuisance  I  got  rid  of 
him.  Just  before  I  went  abroad  this  last  time  I  divorced 
him,  and  gave  him  enough  to  keep  him  running  for  a  while. 
My  story  in  a  nutshell  is  this,"  and  she  touched  her  fingers 
lightly  as  she  epitomized  her  personal  history:  "married  at 
eighteen,  to  a  gentleman;  a  mother  at  twenty;  at  twenty- 
three,  ran  off  with  a  blackguard ;  married  him  in  due  course 
to  satisfy  the  convenances.  Not  forty  yet  and  divorced  twice ! 
And  here  I  am,  tolerably  cheerful  and  not  so  much  the  worse 
for  wear." 

She  waited  for  him  to  say  something ;  but  there  appeared 
to  be  little  for  Amzi  to  say. 

"  I  guess  we  all  do  the  best  we  can,  Lois.  You  don't  have 
to  talk  to  me  about  those  things.  I'm  glad  you're  back; 
that 'sail." 


LOIS  211 

He  showed  his  embarrassment,  shifting  from  one  foot 
to  the  other,  and  rubbing  his  hand  nervously  across  his 
head. 

"Amzi,  you're  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  I  did  n't 
come  back  here  to  be  a  nuisance  to  you.  I  can  sleep  here 
and  run  off  on  the  early  train  —  I  looked  it  up  before  I  came. 
But  I  thought  I'd  like  to  see  the  house  —  and  you  in  it  — 
once  more.  It's  a  big  world,  and  there  are  plenty  of  places 
to  go.  There 's  a  lot  of  Europe  I  have  n't  seen  yet,  and  I  like 
it  over  there.  I  have  some  good  friends  in  Dresden,  and  I 
promised  them  to  come  back.  So  don't  feel  that  I'm  on 
your  hands.  I  'm  not !  I  can  clear  out  in  the  morning  and 
nobody  need  know  that  I've  been  here." 

He  walked  up  to  her  and  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders. 
He  gasped  at  her  suggestion  of  immediate  flight.  He  had 
not  known  how  much  she  meant  to  him;  and  oh,  she  was  so 
like  Phil!  It  was  Phil  who  had  danced  in  his  mind  while  she 
summarized  her  life ;  it  was  the  Phil  she  did  not  know  — 
had  never  known  —  and  for  whom,  astonishingly,  she  had 
not  asked  beyond  her  casual  inquiry  as  to  the  girl's  where- 
abouts. Nothing  was  clear  in  his  mind  save  that  Lois 
must  see  and  know  Phil. 

"I  want  you  to  stay,  Lois;  you've  got  to  stay.  And 
everything's  going  to  be  all  right." 

"Please  be  square  with  me,  Amzi.  This  is  a  small  town 
and  a  woman  can't  coolly  break  all  the  commandments  and 
then  come  back  and  expect  to  be  met  with  a  brass  band. 
You  and  I  understand  each  other ;  but  you ' ve  got  to  think 
of  the  rest  of  the  family;  my  coming  will  doubtless  out- 
rage our  sisters'  delicate  moral  natures  —  I  know  that  — 
and  there's  Tom  —  it's  hardly  fair  to  him  to  come  trail- 
ing back.  And  the  town 's  too  small  for  me  to  hide  in  — 
it  was  always  a  gossipy  hole." 

He  clasped  her  wrists  tightly.  The  working  of  his  face 
showed  his  deep  feeling.  Not  often  in  his  life  had  he  been 
so  touched,  so  moved.  Two  big  tears  rolled  down  his  ruddy 
cheeks. 


212  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"You've  got  to  stay  because  of  Phil!  I  tell  you  there's 
nobody  to  think  about  but  Phil!" 

Suddenly  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"Oh,  I  could  n't  speak  of  her!  You  don't  understand 
that  it 's  because  of  Phil  I  ought  to  go !  You  thought  I 
was  heartless  about  it,  but  it's  not  that  I  don't  care.  I  'm 
afraid  to  see  Phil!  I'm  afraid!" 

"Don't  you  worry  about  Phil,"  he  answered,  digging  the 
tears  out  of  his  eyes  with  his  knuckles.  "Phil's  all  right," 
he  concluded. 

He  crossed  the  hall  and  when  he  returned,  carrying  a 
bulky  photograph  album,  she  had  regained  her  composure, 
and  stood  holding  her  hands  to  the  fire. 

"Sit  here  and  look  at  Phil:  I 've  got  all  her  pictures  from, 
the  time  she  was  a  baby.  I  guess  you  remember  these  first 
ones." 

She  sat  down  by  the  center  table  and  he  turned  up  the 
gas  in  the  blue-shaded  lamp.  She  passed  the  baby  pictures 
quickly,  but  looked  closely  at  those  that  showed  her  daugh- 
ter at  school  age.  Under  each  photograph  Amzi  had  written 
the  date,  so  that  as  a  record  the  collection  was  complete. 
There  were  half  a  dozen  disclosures  of  Phil  in  her  M.H.S. 
sweater.  Amzi  called  attention  to  these  with  a  chuckle. 

"Nearly  killed  the  girls;  Phil  chasing  round  town  in  that 
thing !  And  here  she 's  trigged  out  in  her  graduating  clothes. 
I  guess  you  'd  have  been  proud  of  her  that  night.  Her  piece 
was  about  tramp  dogs ;  funniest  thing  you  ever  heard !  And 
here  she  is  —  let  me  see  —  yes,  that  was  last  summer. 
Those  other  things  are  just  little  snapshots;  and  here's  a 
group  showing  Phil  with  her  class.  Phil  in  front  —  she  was 
the  head  of  her  class  all  right!"  he  ended  proudly. 

Whatever  emotions  may  have  been  aroused  by  this  pic- 
torial review  of  her  child's  life,  Lois  outwardly  made  no 
sign.  She  murmured  her  pleasure  at  one  and  another  of  the 
pictures,  looked  closely  at  the  latest  in  point  of  time,  sighed 
and  closed  the  book. 


LOIS  213 

"She  looks  like  me,  I  suppose.   Is  she  taller?" 

"The  least  bit,  maybe;  but  you're  as  like  as  two  peas," 
answered  Amzi;  and  then  added,  with  the  diffidence  of  a 
man  unused  to  graceful  speeches,  "  I  guess  you  'd  almost  pass 
for  sisters.  By  George,  Lois,  you're  a  wonder!  You  ain't 
a  year  older!" 

"That's  no  compliment,  Amzi!  I  ought  to  have  changed," 
she  replied  soberly.  "But  there's  gray  in  my  hair  if  you 
know  where  to  look,  and  the  wrinkles  are  getting  busy." 

"The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  remarkable  the  resem- 
blance gets,"  he  persisted,  ignoring  her  confessions. 

"That  doesn't  make  it  any  easier,  Amzi;  please  don't 
speak  of  that  again." 

She  tossed  the  book  on  the  table,  as  though  dismissing  a 
disagreeable  subject. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "about  going?" 

"You're  not  going,"  he  replied  with  decision.  "I  won't 
let  you  go.  I  don't  know  how  we  're  going  to  work  it  all  out, 
but  it  won't  be  so  bad.  The  girls  have  got  to  take  it." 

She  caught  a  gleam  of  humor  in  his  eye.  The  displeasure 
of  his  other  sisters  at  her  return  clearly  had  no  terrors  for 
him.  It  may  have  been  that  she  herself  shared  his  pleasure 
in  the  thought  of  their  discomfiture.  She  crossed  the  hall, 
wandering  aimlessly  about,  while  he  waited  and  wondered. 
When  she  returned  she  said  with  the  brisk  manner  of  one 
given  to  quick  decisions :  — 

"I'm  going  to  stay,  Amzi.  But  let  us  understand  now 
that  if  I  'm  a  trouble  to  you,  or  the  rest  of  them  make  you 
uncomfortable,  I  '11  clear  out  and  go  to  the  hotel,  or  set  up 
a  house  of  my  own.  So  don't  be  silly  about  it.  I  'm  a  prac- 
tical person  and  can  take  care  of  myself.  I  'm  not  on  your 
hands,  you  know,  financially  speaking  or  any  other  way." 

"Thunder!  No!" 

This  was  the  first  time  she  had  touched  upon  money 
matters.  While  she  turned  the  leaves  of  the  album,  the 
clumsy  baggage-men  had  pounded  laboriously  up  the  back 
stairs  with  her  trunks,  emphasizing  the  prosperity  of  which 


2i4  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

her  visible  apparel  spoke.  He  was  not  without  an  acute  cur- 
iosity as  to  the  state  of  her  fortunes.  Lois  had  always  been 
a  luxurious  person,  but  she  was,  unaccountably,  the  only  one 
of  his  sisters  who  had  never  asked  him  for  money.  He  had 
made  what  they  called  "advances"  to  all  of  them  and  these 
had  increased  as  their  fortunes  dwindled.  There  was  some- 
thing bafflingly  mysterious  here.  It  was  a  fair  assumption 
that  Jack  Holton  had  spent  Lois's  money  long  ago,  and  the 
fact  that  she  had  floated  home  with  her  flags  flying  and  had 
just  announced  her  ability  to  set  up  an  establishment  for  her- 
self was  disquieting  rather  than  reassuring.  He  was  ashamed 
of  his  fears,  but  it  was  against  reason  that  she  should  have 
escaped  the  clutches  of  a  worthless  blackguard  like  Jack 
Holton  with  any  of  her  patrimony. 

Now  that  she  had  announced  her  determination  to  remain 
her  spirits  rose  buoyantly.  The  thought  of  meeting  Phil 
had  shaken  her ;  and  yet  that  had  been  but  a  moment's  fleet- 
ing shadow,  as  from  a  stray  cloud  wandering  across  a  summer 
sky.  When  she  referred  to  Phil  again,  it  was  with  a  detach- 
ment at  which  he  marveled.  If  he  had  not  loved  her  so 
deeply  and  if  his  happiness  at  her  return  had  been  less  com- 
plete, he  should  have  thought  her  heartless.  She  had  called 
herself  "different";  and  she  was,  indeed,  different  in  ways 
that  defied  his  poor  powers  of  analysis.  She  was  a  mystify- 
ing creature.  Her  assurance,  her  indifference  toward  the 
world  in  general,  the  cool  fashion  in  which  she  had  touched 
off  on  her  pretty  fingers  the  chief  incidents  of  her  life  did  not 
stagger  him  so  much  as  they  fascinated  him.  She  was  of  his 
own  blood,  and  yet  it  was  almost  another  language  that  she 
spoke. 

She  had  brought  down  a  box  of  bon-bons  which  she  now 
remembered  and  urged  him  to  try,  moving  fitfully  about  the 
room  and  poking  at  the  box  from  time  to  time  absently, 
while  he  volunteered  information  touching  old  friends.  Her 
interest  in  local  history  was  apparently  the  slightest:  he 
might  have  been  talking  of  the  Gauls  in  the  time  of  Csesar 
for  all  the  interest  she  manifested  in  her  contemporaries  and 


LOIS  215 

their  fortunes.  He  finally  mentioned  with  dogged  daring 
the  Bartletts  whom  she  had  known  well;  they  had  been 
exceedingly  kind  to  Phil,  he  said.  Her  manner  was  so  pro- 
vokingly  indifferent  that  he  was  at  the  point  of  bringing 
Kirkwood  into  the  picture  in  a  last  effort  to  shatter  her 
unconcern.  She  bit  a  bon-bon  in  two,  made  a  grimace 
of  dissatisfaction,  and  tossed  the  remaining  half  into  the 
fire. 

"Oh,  the  Bartlett  girls!  Let  me  see,  which  was  the  musi- 
cal one  —  Rose  or  Nan?" 

"  Rose.  Nan 's  literary.  They  're  fine  women,  and  they've 
been  a  mighty  big  help  to  Phil,"  he  persisted. 

"Very  nice  of  them,  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  yawning. 

The  yawn  reminded  her  that  she  was  sleepy,  and  without 
prelude  she  kissed  him,  asked  the  breakfast  hour,  and  went 
up  to  bed. 

He  followed  to  make  sure  that  she  had  what  she  needed, 
surveyed  the  trunks  that  loomed  in  the  hall  like  a  mountain 
range,  and  went  below  to  commune  with  the  fire. 

As  he  reviewed  the  situation,  to  the  accompaniment  of 
her  quick,  light  patter  on  the  guest-room  floor,  he  was  unable 
to  key  himself  to  a  note  of  tragedy.  The  comedy  of  life 
had  never  been  wasted  on  him,  and  it  was,  after  all,  a  stu- 
pendous joke  that  Lois  should  have  come  back  almost  as 
tranquilly  as  though  she  had  been  away  for  a  week's  visit. 
The  longer  he  brooded  the  more  it  tickled  him.  She  either 
was  incapable  of  comprehending  the  problems  involved  in 
her  return  or  meant  to  face  them  with  the  jauntiness  which 
her  troubled  years  had  increased  rather  than  diminished. 

Life  with  her,  he  mused,  was  not  a  permanent  book  of 
record,  but  a  flimsy  memorandum,  from  which  she  tore  the 
leaves  when  they  displeased  her  and  crumpled  them  into 
the  wastebasket  of  oblivion.  It  was  a  new  idea;  but  it  had, 
he  reflected,  its  merits.  He  went  to  the  front  door,  as  was  his 
habit,  to  survey  the  heavens  before  retiring.  The  winter 
stars  shone  gloriously,  and  the  night  was  still.  The  town 
clock  boomed  twelve,  ushering  in  Christmas.  He  walked 


216  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

a  little  way  down  the  path  as  he  counted  the  strokes,  glanced 
up  at  Lois's  window,  then  across  the  hedges  to  the  homes  of 
the  other  daughters  of  the  house  of  Montgomery,  chuckled, 
said  "Thunder!"  so  loudly  that  his  own  voice  startled  him, 
and  went  hurriedly  in  and  bolted  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MERRY   CHRISTMAS 

ON  every  Christmas  morning  it  was  the  custom  of  Amzi's 
sisters  to  repair  with  their  several  families  to  his  house, 
carrying  their  gifts  and  bearing  thence  such  presents  as 
he  might  bestow.  The  Fosdicks  and  the  Watermans  had 
children,  and  these  were  encouraged  to  display  themselves 
frequently  at  their  uncle's.  And  Amzi  was  kind  and  gener- 
ous in  his  relations  with  ail  of  them.  Amzi  Waterman  and 
Amzi  Fosdick,  still  in  short  trousers,  had  been  impressed  at 
their  respective  homes  with  the  importance  of  ingratiating 
themselves  with  Uncle  Amzi,  and  Amzi,  fully  cognizant  of 
this,  was  an  ideal  uncle  to  each  impartially.  Mrs.  Fosdick 
hoped  that  her  little  Susan  would  be  as  thoroughly  estab- 
lished in  Amzi's  regard  as  Phil;  there  was  always  Phil, — 
that  unbridled,  unbroken,  fearless  young  mustang  of  a  Phil. 

Amzi  was  down  early  giving  the  final  revision  to  his  list 
of  presents.  Having  found  in  years  gone  by  that  it  was 
decidedly  unsafe  to  buy  gifts  for  his  sisters,  as  they  were 
never  satisfied  with  his  selections  and  poorly  concealed 
their  displeasure,  he  had  latterly  adopted  the  policy  of  giving 
each  of  them  one  hundred  dollars  in  gold. 

Ten  was  the  usual  hour  for  the  family  gathering,  and  as 
the  clock  struck,  Amzi  began  wandering  through  the  house 
restlessly.  Occasionally  he  grinned,  and  said  "Thunder!" 
quietly  to  himself.  In  the  night  watches  he  had  pondered  the 
advisability  of  warning  Lois's  sisters  of  her  return ;  but  he 
saw  nothing  to  be  gained  by  this.  Something  of  Lois's  serene 
indifference  had  communicated  itself  to  him;  and  as  an  at- 
tentive student  of  the  continuing  human  comedy  he  specu- 
lated cheerfully  as  to  the  length  and  violence  of  the  im- 
pending storm.  Kirkwood  had  never  participated  in  these 


218  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Christmas  morning  visits,  and  Phil  usually  dropped  in  after 
her  aunts  had  departed.  It  seemed  easier  to  let  Fate  take 
charge  of  the  disclosure. 

A  door  slammed  in  the  upper  hall,  and  Amzi  heard  the 
colored  woman  descending  the  back  stairs.  Lois  was  having 
her  breakfast  in  her  room,  an  unprecedented  circumstance 
in  the  domestic  economy.  Then  Jeremiah  was  summoned 
to  distribute  the  much-belabeled  trunks.  Amzi's  sensations 
during  these  unwonted  excitements  were,  on  the  whole,  not 
disagreeable.  The  invasion  of  his  bachelor  privacy  was  too 
complete  for  any  minute  analysis  of  what  he  liked  Or  did  n't 
like.  It  was  a  good  deal  of  a  joke,  —  this  breakfasting  in 
bed,  this  command  of  the  resources  of  his  establishment  to 
scatter  trunks  about.  As  he  crossed  the  hall  he  was  arrested 
by  a  cheerful  "Merry  Christmas." 

Lois,  in  a  pink  kimona,  smilingly  waved  her  hand  from 
the  top  step  where  she  sat  composedly  watching  him. 

"Merry  Christmas!"  he  called  back. 

"Here's  a  present  for  you,  —  got  it  in  Paris,  special.  If 
you  don't  like  it,  I  '11  trade  you  another  for  it.  Catch ! " 

She  tossed  him  a  box  containing  a  scarfpin,  and  she 
nursed  her  knees,  humming  to  herself  and  clicking  her  slip- 
per heels  while  he  examined  it.  She  interrupted  his  stam- 
mered thanks  to  ask  whether  any  of  the  "folks"  had  been 
in  yet. 

She  had  dressed  her  hair  in  the  prevailing  pompadour 
fashion,  which  was  highly  becoming;  and  the  kimona  im- 
parted to  her  face  a  soft  rose  color.  She  was  a  pretty  rose 
of  a  woman,  and  he  leaned  against  the  newel  and  regarded 
her  with  appreciation. 

"I  slept  like  a  top;  it's  as  still  as  the  woods  around  here. 
I  suppose  Montgomery's  never  going  to  grow  much;  and 
it's  just  as  well.  What's  property  worth  a  front  foot  on 
Main  Street,  —  oh,  say  within  a  couple  of  blocks  of  the 
court-house?" 

"About  five  hundred  dollars,  I  guess." 

She  lifted  her  head  as  though  thinking  deeply. 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  219 

"Real  estate  's  the  only  thing,  if  you  get  into  it  right.  You 
were  never  much  on  speculation,  were  you,  Amzi?  Well, 
you  were  wise  to  keep  out  of  it.  It  takes  imagination  — " 
She  brushed  the  subject  away  gracefully.  "You  still  own  a 
farm  or  two?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  always  thought  I  'd  like  to  go  in  for  farming  sometime. 
I've  looked  into  the  fruit  business  out  West  and  there 
must  be  a  lot  of  cheap  land  in  Indiana  that  would  do  splen- 
didly for  apples.  There's  no  reason  why  you  should  have 
to  pay  the  freight  on  apples  all  the  way  from  Oregon.  Ever 
tackled  apples?" 

"Yes;  I  have  an  orchard  or  two,"  he  admitted  wonder- 
ingly. 

If  he  had  spent  the  night  guessing  what  subject  she  would 
choose  for  a  morning  confab,  apple  culture  would  not  have 
been  on  the  list.  He  had  thought  that  perhaps  the  day- 
would  bring  a  torrent  of  questions  about  old  friends,  but 
she  seemed  more  aloof  than  ever.  The  pearl  in  his  scarfpin 
was  a  splendid  specimen ;  he  roughly  calculated  that  it  repre- 
sented an  expenditure  of  at  least  a  hundred  dollars ;  and  she 
had  flung  it  at  him  as  carelessly  as  though  she  were  tossing 
cherries  from  a  tree. 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you  about  the  trunks?  You  can 
have  Jerry  as  long  as  you  like." 

"Oh,  I  shan't  work  on  that  job  all  day.  It's  too  much 
bother.  I  '11  dig  the  stuff  out  gradually.  I  '11  have  to  throw 
most  of  it  away  anyhow.  I  've  got  everything  I  own  in  that 
pile.  I  suppose  I  'd  better  get  dressed  —  What  did  you  say 
about  the  morning  gathering,  —  is  it  a  ceremonial  affair?" 

"Well,  the  girls  have  liked  to  do  it  that  way,  —  all  come 
in  a  bunch  after  their  home  doings." 

"That's  very  nice,  really  picturesque!  I  suppose  they're 
all  a  lot  of  comfort  to  you,  living  alone  this  way.  Do  they 
dine  here  to-day?  How  about  Tom  and  Phil?" 

It  was  clear  from  her  tone  that  the  identity  of  his  guests 
was  a  negligible  matter.  She  mentioned  her  former  husband 


22o  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

without  emotion,  and  her  tone  implied  no  particular  interest 
in  the  answer. 

"We  were  all  of  us  to  dine  with  Josie  to-day;  we  sort  o' 
move  around,  and  it 's  her  turn ;  but  if  you  'd  rather  stay  here 
we  '11  have  dinner  together  or  any  way  you  like.  Tom  never 
mixes  up  in  the  dinner  parties.  But  Phil  will  be  here  after 
while ;  say  about  eleven.  You  'd  better  be  ready." 

"Certainly;  I'll  get  into  some  other  clothes  right  away." 
She  stood,  lifted  her  arms,  and  stretched  herself  lazily. 
"  It's  nice  to  see  you  looking  so  well;  but  Sarah  confided 
to  me  when  she  brought  up  my  breakfast  that  you  eat  alto- 
gether too  much.  Sarah's  very  nice;  I  like  Sarah.  And  I 
can  see  that  Jerry  dotes  on  you.  You're  pampered,  Amzi; 
I  can  see  that  you  don 't  resist  the  temptation  to  stuff  your- 
self with  Sarah's  cooking.  I  'd  be  a  roly-poly  myself  if  I 
did  n't  cut  off  starch  and  sweets  now  and  then." 

There  was  a  sound  of  steps  at  the  front  door,  followed  by 
a  prolonged  tinkle  of  the  doorbell.  Amzi  glanced  up  to  make 
sure  she  was  out  of  sight.  He  heard  her  humming  as  she 
passed  down  the  hall  to  her  room  and  then  he  rubbed  his 
head  vigorously  as  though  rallying  his  wits  in  readiness  for 
the  invasion,  and  flung  open  the  door. 

The  two  young  Amzis  and  little  Susan  greeted  him  effu- 
sively and  he  yielded  himself  with  avuncular  meekness  to 
their  embraces.  They  had  come  bearing  gifts  which  they 
bestowed  upon  him  noisily,  while  the  remainder  of  the  dele- 
gation crowded  in.  His  three  sisters  kissed  him  in  succes- 
sion, in  the  ascending  order  of  age,  and  he  shook  hands  with 
his  brothers-in-law. 

"Morning,  Amzi!" 

"Morning,  Lawrence!" 

"Morning,  Amzi!" 

"Morning,  Paul!" 

"Morning,  Amzi!" 

"Morning,  Alec!" 

These  greetings  were  as  stiff  as  those  that  pass  between 
a  visiting  statesman  and  the  local  yeomanry  at  a  rural 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  221 

reception.  Lawrence,  Paul,  and  Alec  undoubtedly  hated 
this  perfunctory  annual  tribute  to  the  head  of  the  house 
of  Montgomery,  but  Amzi  liked  the  perpetuation  of  his 
father's  house  as  a  family  center.  It  did  not  matter  that 
greed  and  sentimentalism  were  back  of  his  sisters'  stubborn 
devotion  to  the  Montgomery  tradition ;  with  him  it  was  an 
honest  sentiment;  and  as  to  their  avarice,  to  which  he  was 
not  insensible,  it  should  be  said  that  charity  was  not  least 
among  his  rugged  virtues. 

He  made  a  lark  of  opening  his  gifts  for  the  delight  of  the 
children.  A  truce  had  been  effected  between  the  Fosdicks 
and  Watermans  by  which  each  of  the  young  Amzis  bestowed 
a  box  of  neckties  of  approximately  the  same  value  upon 
their  uncle.  Little  Susan  gave  him  a  muffler;  the  sisters  had 
joined  in  a  new  easychair  which  Jeremiah  now  carried  in; 
their  husbands  had  combined  in  their  usual  tribute  of 
cigars.  A  toy  and  a  five-dollar  gold-piece  for  each  child; 
the  little  chamois-skin  bags  of  gold-pieces  for  the  sisters; 
a  book  for  each  brother-in-law,  completed  Amzi's  offer- 
ings. He  announced  to  the  children  that  he  was  going  to 
build  a  toboggan  in  the  back  yard  for  their  joint  use  just 
as  soon  as  spring  came.  This  was  a  surprise  and  called  forth 
much  joyous  chorusing  from  the  youngsters,  whose  parents 
viewed  this  pendant  to  the  expected  gifts  with  satisfaction, 
as  indicating  the  increasing  warmth  of  Amzi's  affection  for 
their  children. 

"You  are  always  generous,  Amzi,"  said  Mrs.  Waterman 
fervidly.  "You  can  put  the  toboggan  on  our  lot  if  you 
like." 

"And  cut  down  the  trees!  I  should  rather  do  without  it 
than  destroy  a  single  one  of  the  old  beeches,"  averred  Mrs. 
Hastings,  who,  having  no  children  to  enjoy  the  felicities  of 
tobogganing,  was  not  deeply  interested  in  the  project. 

"No  trees  shall  be  cut  down,"  replied  Amzi  quickly; 
"I'm  going  to  put  it  on  my  own  place.  You  can't  tell  but 
I  may  use  it  myself  more  or  less  —  after  dark.  The  children 
won't  mind,  and  the  doctors  say  I  need  exercise." 


222  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Mrs.  Waterman  pinched  her  young  Amzi,  who  sweetly 
chirruped,  "We  'd  love  to  have  you  use  it,  Uncle  Amzi." 

"If  Uncle  Amzi  falls  off  and  breaks  hims  neck,  it  would 
be  so  fun-nee,"  piped  Susan  delightedly. 

"Susan!"  exclaimed  Susan's  mother,  lifting  a  severe 
finger. 

"  It  would  be  fun-nee.  Would  n't  it  be  fun-nee,  Aunt 
Katie?  Danny  Holton,  he  fell  off  hims  bicycle  going  down 
hims  toboggan  and  breaked  one  leg;  and  it  ain't  got  mended 
yet.  And  papa  says  Uncle  Amzi 's  so  fat  an'  he  tumble  on  the 
ice  it  would  smash  him  like  a  old  cucumber.  Yes,  I  did,  too, 
hear  him  say  it.  Didn't  you  hear  him  say  it,  mamma?" 

Mrs.  Fosdick  had  heard  nothing  of  the  kind,  for  the  excel- 
lent reason,  as  her  husband  declared,  that  no  such  impious 
thought  had  ever  crossed  his  mind,  much  less  expressed 
itself  in  Susan's  presence. 

Amzi  roared  with  delight,  caught  up  Susan  and  planted 
her  on  his  shoulder.  Even  if  Paul  Fosdick  really  had  com- 
pared him  to  a  mature  cucumber  it  did  not  greatly  matter. 
Fanny  Fosdick  glared  at  her  Paul.  All  the  adults  present 
except  Amzi  were  plainly  distressed.  Mrs.  Hastings,  being 
childless  and  therefore  entitled  to  her  opinions  as  to  the 
rearing  of  children,  resolved  that  at  last  she  must  speak  to 
Fanny  about  Susie.  And  all  this  embarrassment  and  irrita- 
tion by  the  guileless  Susie  had  not  disturbed  Amzi  one  whit. 
Amzi  had  no  intention  of  rewriting  his  will  to  punish  Susie, 
or  her  forbears. 

Hastings,  gloomily  inhaling  a  cigarette,  turned  over  the 
pages  of  the  book  which  Amzi  had  given  him.  It  was  a  late 
study  of  the  art  of  Henry  Irving,  and  its  bestowal  had 
been  a  conscious  flattery  on  Amzi's  part.  Still,  it  touched 
unhappy  chords  in  Hastings's  bosom.  Who  was  better 
equipped  than  he  to  catch  up  the  fallen  mantle  of  Irving? 
And  here  he  lay  impotent  in  the  hands  of  the  fates  that  had 
set  him  down  in  a  dull  village,  without  means  even  to  hang 
a  moving-picture  screen  upon  the  deserted  stage  of  his 
theater. 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  2z3 

Amzi,  having  crawled  over  the  floor  with  Susie  at  some  per- 
sonal inconvenience  and  distress,  was  now  helping  his  name- 
sakes to  set  up  the  engines  he  had  given  them,  while  their 
mothers  murmured  suggestions  and  warnings.  Waterman 
stood  at  the  window  looking  out  upon  the  snow-covered 
lawn.  Fosdick  scanned  the  market  page  in  Amzi's  copy  of 
the  Indianapolis  "Advertiser."  It  was  in  Waterman's  mind 
that  if  he  had  the  essential  funds  he  might  the  next  year 
renew  his  assaults  upon  the  halls  of  Congress.  The  brothers- 
in-law  distrusted  and  disliked  each  other.  Each,  after  his 
fashion,  was  a  failure;  and  the  angle  of  their  several  failures 
had  become  acute.  Their  wives  made  a  brave  showing  to 
the  public  and  to  each  other;  there  was  always  the  Mont- 
gomery pride  to  be  sustained. 

Amzi,  having  abandoned  the  fiejkl  of  engineering  to  his 
nephews,  contemplated  the  scene  philosophically  with  his 
back  to  the  fire.  His  sisters  discussed  the  annual  ball  to  be 
given  in  January  by  the  Sons  of  Montgomery.  They  were 
on  the  invitation  committee,  and  were  confronted  with 
the  usual  problems  of  elimination.  There  was  a  standard 
to  maintain,  and  the  Newells,  who  had  just  moved  from 
Ladoga,  and  set  up  a  new  house  and  a  six-cylinder  auto- 
mobile, were,  as  every  one  was  saying,  such  nice  people ;  and 
Newell  undoubtedly  made  a  lot  of  money  out  of  his  saw- 
mills ;  and  all  that.  They  were  painfully  conscious  that  their 
husbands  were  not  amusing  Amzi  or  each  other. 

"Where's  Phil,  Amzi?"  asked  Mrs.  Waterman. 

"Phil  hasn't  showed  up  yet.  I  guess  she'll  be  along 
pretty  soon." 

"Tom  has  had  her  with  him  over  at  Indianapolis  all  week. 
I  don't  think  he  ought  to  take  her  over  there,  to  run  around 
town  while  he 's  busy.  She 's  had  so  little  experience,  and 
with  her  heedlessness ;  and  all  — " 

Mrs.  Waterman  left  the  conclusion  to  their  imaginations, 
and  as  Amzi  made  no  response  and  as  the  other  gentlemen 
seemed  indifferent,  Mrs.  Fosdick  threw  a  bit  of  kindling 
upon  the  dull  ashes  of  the  conversation. 


224  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Mary  Fanning  said  she  saw  Phil  on  the  street  with  a 
young  man  over  at  Indianapolis,  only  last  Tuesday.  It 
is  n't  fair  of  Tom;  or  right,  Amzi  — " 

"Thunder!  I  heard  what  Mary  was  saying.  She  saw  Phil 
in  Washington  Street,  with  Charlie  Holton.  What  have 
you  girls  got  against  Charlie?  If  it  had  n't  been  for  you  Phil 
would  n't  have  known  him." 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  against  Charlie;  he's  a  fine  fellow. 
I  did  n't  know  it  was  Charlie,"  she  ended  weakly. 

"Well,  it  was  Charlie.  Nan  Bartlett  heard  what  Mary 
was  saying,  and  asked  her  about  it,  and  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it:  she  saw  Phil  and  Charlie  walking  along  Washing- 
ton Street,  just  as  they  might  walk  down  Main  Street 
here  at  home  if  they  happened  to  meet.  And  for  that 
matter  Phil  has  n't  been  depending  on  her  father  for  amuse- 
ment over  there.  She 's  been  visiting  the  Fitches  —  the 
lawyer  Fitch,  of  Wright  and  Fitch.  Tom's  been  offered  a 
place  in  the  firm;  they're  the  best  lawyers  in  Indiana;  and 
I  guess  there's  nothing  the  matter  with  Mrs.  Fitch,  is 
there?" 

This  was  not  only  news,  but  it  was  astonishing  news. 
Mrs.  Fitch's  name  not  only  guaranteed  a  scrupulous  chap- 
eronage,  but  the  fact  that  Phil  was  a  guest  in  her  house  was 
significant  of  Tom  Kirkwood's  standing  at  the  capital  and 
of  Phil's  social  acceptance  by  a  woman  whose  name  was 
constantly  impressed  upon  all  students  of  the  society  columns 
of  the  Indianapolis  newspapers. 

"The  last  time  I  was  over  I  saw  Mrs.  Fitch  in  a  box  at 
the  theater,  and  I  must  say  that  I  could  n't  do  much  for  her 
clothes,"  remarked  Mrs.  Hastings. 

"You  did  n't  have  to  do  anything  for  them,"  said  Amzi 
amiably.  "  Here,  Jerry,  put  that  down  on  the  side  table." 

Jeremiah  had  appeared  with  a  tray  that  supported  a  huge 
bowl.  This  followed  established  custom :  eggnog  was  always 
served  at  these  gatherings  of  the  clan.  Amzi  sent  the  darky 
away  and  began  filling  the  glasses,  as  he  liked  to  serve  the 
tipple  himself.  The  faces  of  his  brothers-in-law  brightened. 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  225 

The  persistence  with  which  their  wives  fussed  about  Phil 
exasperated  them,  and  their  attacks  upon  their  niece, 
open  or  veiled,  always  roused  Amzi.  And  there  was 
nothing  whatever  to  be  gained,  as  they  knew  from  long  ex- 
perience, by  suggesting  Phil's  delinquencies.  The  husbands 
of  Phil's  aunts  admired  Phil;  the  more  the  girl  annoyed 
her  aunts,  the  more  they  admired  her. 

"Why  does  n't  Phil  come?"  demanded  Fosdick.  "The 
circle  is  n't  complete  without  her." 

Mrs.  Waterman  had  several  times  during  the  hour  pricked 
up  her  ears  at  sounds  above  which  she  was  unable  to  adjust 
to  her  knowledge  of  Amzi's  menage.  The  step  on  the  floor 
above  was  not  that  of  the  heavy-footed  Sarah,  nor  yet  that 
of  the  shuffling  Jeremiah.  Sarah  could  be  heard  in  the 
kitchen,  and  Jeremiah  was  even  now  passing  cakes  and 
orange  juice  to  the  children  at  the  dining-room  table. 

"Amzi,  who's  upstairs?"  demanded  Mrs.  Waterman. 

"Upstairs?   Thunder!  A  woman!" 

Whereupon  Amzi,  having  handed  round  the  eggnog, 
stood  sipping  a  glass  contentedly  in  his  favorite  post  by  the 
hearth. 

"A  woman  upstairs!" 

"Yep.  She's  a  woman." 

"Amzi!" 

Their  backs  grew  rigid.  They  had  never  believed  their 
brother  capable  of  such  a  thing.  They  exchanged  glances 
that  telegraphed  the  horror  of  this  depravity.  If  it  had  been 
any  one  else  on  earth !  And  the  brazenness  of  it !  Hastings 
and  Fosdick  grinned  at  each  other,  as  much  as  to  say  that 
after  all  you  never  can  tell.  It  was  a  pleasant  discovery  that 
their  brother-in-law  was  only  human.  The  cheek  of  the 
thing  was  stupendous;  his  indifference  to  the  fine  scorn  of 
their  impeccable  wives  was  superb.  Hereafter  those  ladies 
would  be  more  tolerant  of  weak  and  erring  man. 

Amzi  rocked  himself  on  his  heels,  ignoring  them.  He  had 
wondered  why  Lois  did  not  add  herself  to  the  family  circle. 
He,  too,  had  heard  her  quick  steps  on  the  floor  above,  and 


226  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

had  grown  impatient  at  her  long  delay;  but  that  was 
part  of  the  joke  of  it  all:  Lois  would  take  her  time  ajid  ap- 
pear when  it  suited  her  convenience.  Not  for  gold,  not 
for  much  fine  gold  would  he  have  preluded  her  approach 
with  any  warning.  And  their  ready  assumption  that  they 
had  caught  him  in  an  act  of  impropriety  tickled  him  tre- 
mendously. They  were  all  listening  now;  and  there  was 
undeniably  something  really  naughty  and  devilish  in  the 
patter  of  those  French  heels! 

A  door  above  closed  with  a  bang.  The  shameless  creature 
was  tripping  downstairs  as  gayly  as  though  the  house  be- 
longed to  her.  The  ease  of  her  descent  spoke  for  youth ;  it 
was  in  three  minds  that  old  fools  are  always  more  susceptible 
to  the  wiles  of  young  adventuresses.  The  sisters  averted 
their  faces  from  the  contaminating  sight.  Amzi  was  cross- 
ing the  room  and  reached  the  open  door  as  it  framed  his 
sister.  He  had  a  fine,  instinctive  sense  of  courtesy  and  even 
his  pudgy  figure  could  not  diminish  his  dignity.  He  took 
Lois  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  the  broad  hearth  as  though 
the  fireplace  symbolized  the  domestic  altar,  and  he  was 
restoring  her  to  its  protection. 

"  This  is  Lois,"  he  said  simply,  as  she  swung  round  ; 
and  as  they  stared  dully  he  repeated,  "  This  is  Lois." 

Mrs.  Fosdick  was  nearest,  and  Mrs.  Holton  put  out  her 
hand  to  her. 

"Well,  Fanny!"  she  said;  and  then,  sweeping  them  all 
with  her  smile,  "Merry  Christmas!" 

Her  clasp  of  Mrs.  Fosdick's  hand  seemed  to  bring  them  all 
to  their  feet,  and  she  moved  quickly  from  one  to  the  other, 
with  some  commonplace  of  greeting,  and  a  bright  smile 
for  each.  Clasping  the  hands  of  Kate  and  Josephine  to- 
gether she  looked  from  one  to  the  other  and  said  in  her 
pleasant  voice,  — 

"How  like  old  times  it  seems;  and  how  nice  to  come  in  on 
you  all  at  Christmas!  You  are  a  bit  stouter  —  you  two 
—  but  Fanny  hasn't  changed  a  bit.  Alec"  —  she  swung 
round  toward  the  bewildered  men  —  "I  don't  believe  you 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  227 

know  me,  but  I  should  have  recognized  you  anywhere. 
Please,  now,  which  is  which  of  you?" 

"That's  Paul  Fosdick,  Lois;  and  that's  Lawrence  Hast- 
ings. Gentlemen,  Mrs.  Holton." 

"Very  glad  to  meet  you,  gentlemen.  Odd,  isn't  it?  that 
this  should  be  the  first  time!" 

She  gave  them  her  hand  in  turn  in  her  quick  graceful 
way.  Since  marrying  into  the  family  they  had  heard  much 
of  this  Lois,  and  lo!  their  preconceived  notions  of  her  went 
down  with  a  bang.  They  had  been  misled  and  deceived ;  she 
was  not  that  sort  of  person  at  all !  She  had  effected  as  by  a 
miracle  a  change  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  room.  It  was  as 
though  the  first  daffodil  had  daringly  lifted  its  head  under 
a  leaden  February  sky.  Amzi,  prepared  for  an  explosion, 
marveled  that  none  had  shaken  the  house  from  its  founda- 
tions. But  while  the  masculine  members  of  the  family 
yielded  up  their  arms  without  a  struggle  their  wives  were 
fortifying  themselves  against  the  invader.  Amzi's  conduct 
was  wholly  reprehensible;  he  had  no  right  to  permit  and 
sanction  Lois's  return;  the  possibilities  implied  in  her 
coming  were  tremendous  and  far-reaching.  It  was  a  stag- 
gering blow,  this  unlooked-for  return.  While  their  husbands 
stood  grinning  before  the  shameless  woman,  they  conferred 
in  glances,  furtively  looking  from  each  other  to  the  prodigal. 
Amzi  fortified  himself  with  another  glass  of  eggnog. 

Lois  had  dominated  the  scene  from  the  moment  of  her 
appearance.  Her  entrance  had  been  the  more  startling  by 
reason  of  its  very  simplicity.  She  was  taking  everything 
as  a  matter  of  course,  quite  as  though  there  were  nothing 
extraordinary  in  the  parting  of  the  waters  to  afford  her  pas- 
sage dry  shod,  through  those  sixteen  years,  to  a  promised 
land  imaginably  represented  by  Montgomery.  Her  sisters, 
huddled  by  the  center  table,  struggled  against  their  im- 
potence to  seize  the  situation.  This  was  not  their  idea  of 
the  proper  return  of  a  woman  who  had  sinned  against  Hea- 
ven, to  say  nothing  of  the  house  of  Montgomery.  Their 
course  was  the  more  difficult  by  reason  of  their  ignorance 


228  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

of  the  cause  of  her  descent  upon  them.  Amzi  should  suffer 
for  this ;  but  first  she  must  be  dealt  with ;  and  they  meant 
to  deal  with  her.  Their  rage  surged  the  more  hotly  as  they 
saw  their  husbands'  quick  capitulation.  They,  too,  should 
be  dealt  with ! 

"Let  us  all  sit  down  and  be  comfortable,"  said  Lois 
easily,  and  Hastings  and  Fosdick  bumped  heads  in  their  mad 
haste  to  place  a  chair  for  her. 

Hastings,  with  his  theatric  instincts  stimulated,  and  real- 
izing that  silence  would  give  the  massed  artillery  of  the 
enemy  a  chance  to  thunder,  immediately  engaged  the  new- 
comer in  conversation.  Paris  and  its  theaters  served  ad- 
mirably as  a  theme.  Lois  clearly  knew  her  Paris  well ;  and 
she  had  met  Rostand  —  at  a  garden  party  —  and  spoke  of 
the  contemporaneous  French  drama  with  the  light  touch 
of  sophistication.  French  phrases  slipped  from  her  tongue 
trippingly,  and  added  to  her  charm  and  mystery,  her  fel- 
lowship with  another  and  wider  world.  From  Hastings 
she  turned  to  embrace  them  all  in  her  talk.  The  immobile 
countenances  of  her  sisters,  reflecting  stubborn  resentment 
and  antagonism,  were  without  effect  upon  her.  Instead  of 
sitting  before  them  as  the  villainess  of  this  domestic  drama, 
a  culprit  arraigned  for  her  manifold  wickednesses,  she  was 
beyond  question  the  heroine  of  the  piece. 

"You  remember,  Fanny,  what  a  hard  business  we  used 
to  make  of  our  French?  Well,  in  Seattle  I  had  a  lot  of  time 
on  my  hands  and  I  put  in  a  good  deal  of  it  studying  lan- 
guages. There  was  a  wonderful  Frenchwoman  out  there 
and  I  got  her  to  teach  me,  —  all  good  fun,  with  her;  we  used 
to  go  places  together,  and  I  finally  reached  the  point  where  I 
could  talk  back  to  a  French  waiter.  I  really  believe  I  could 
set  up  as  a  teacher  now  without  being  indicted  for  taking 
money  under  false  pretenses.  You  have  been  over,  haven't 
you,  Kate?  It  seems  to  me  I  heard  of  your  being  there;  but 
you  might  all  have  gone  round  the  world  a  dozen  times! 
Whose  children  are  those  out  there?  Bring  them  in  and  let 
me  have  a  look  at  them." 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  229 

The  children  were  brought  in  by  their  fathers  and  pre- 
sented without  any  interruption  to  her  flow  of  talk.  She  let 
fall  a  question  here  and  there  that  was  presumably  directed 
to  one  or  the  other  of  her  sisters,  but  their  faint,  reluctant 
answers  apparently  did  not  disturb  her.  She  was  treating 
them  as  though  they  were  dingy  frumps;  and  they  revolted 
against  all  this  prattle  about  Paris.  It  was  distinctly  un- 
becoming in  a  woman  whose  sins  were  so  grievous  to  rip- 
ple on  so  light-heartedly  about  the  unholiest  of  cities 
when  they  sat  there  as  jurors  waiting  to  hear  her  plea  for 
mercy. 

"Susan,  you  dear  angel,  come  here!" 

Susie  toddled  into  her  aunt's  arms,  raised  a  face  that 
stickily  testified  to  her  Uncle  Amzi's  plentiful  provision  of 
candy,  and  was  kissed.  Mrs.  Waterman,  formulating  a 
plan  of  campaign,  took  a  step  toward  Susan  as  though  to 
save  the  child  from  this  desecration  of  its  innocence;  but 
a  glance  from  Amzi  gave  her  pause. 

"Oo  have  booful  clothes.   Whas  oor  name?" 

"  I  'm  a  new  aunt;  I  'm  your  Aunt  Lois.  You  never  heard 
of  me,  did  you?  Well,  it  does  n't  matter  the  tiniest  little  bit. 
Something  tells  me  that  we're  going  to  get  on  famously. 
I  should  n't  wonder,  I  should  n't  wonder  at  all,  Susan,  if 
we  became  the  best  of  friends." 

Her  voice  softened  into  new  and  charming  tones.  She 
held  the  sticky,  chubby  hands  unmindfully.  She  was  one 
of  those  women  who  are  incapable  of  an  awkward  attitude. 
The  child  lingered,  examining  with  wide-eyed  scrutiny  the 
enchantments  of  the  new  lady's  apparel. 

"She's  charming,  Fanny,"  Lois  remarked,  glancing  up 
suddenly  at  Susan's  mother;  "a  perfectly  adorable  baby." 

"Oo  going  to  stay  in  this  house?  This  Uncle  Amzi  ims 
house." 

"Now,  Susan,  do  you  really  want  me  to  stay?" 

Susan  surveyed  her  newfound  aunt  gravely  before  pass- 
ing upon  this  question  that  was  so  much  more  momentous 
than  she  realized.  Lois,  bending  forward  in  her  low  chair 


230  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

with  her  head  slightly  to  one  side,  met  the  child's  gaze  with 
like  gravity.  It  might  have  been  assumed  from  her  manner 
that  she  attached  the  greatest  importance  to  Susan's  ver- 
dict ;  there  may  even  have  been  an  appeal  in  the  brown  eyes ; 
but  if  there  was  it  was  an  affair  between  the  woman  and 
the  child  in  which  the  spectators  had  no  share. 

Susan  swallowed. 

"Oo  stay  and  play  wif  me.  Uncle  Amzi  ims  going  to 
make  big  toboggan  in  ims  yard  and  oo  can  slide  down  wif 
me.  And  Phil  she  come  and  play.  Phil  make  me  bow  and 
arroo  and  Phil,  her  shooted  it  at  old  rooster  and  ims  est 
runned  and  runned." 

"How  splendid!"  laughed  Lois. 

"You  may  go  now,  Susan,"  said  her  mother,  feeling  that 
this  flirtation  had  progressed  far  enough. 

Thus  admonished  Susan  withdrew,  while  her  brother  and 
cousin  submitted  themselves  to  the  new  aunt's  closer  in- 
spection. 

"Two  Amzis !  It 's  quite  fine  of  you  to  perpetuate  the  name, 
girls.  You  must  be  sure,  boys,  always  to  spell  your  name 
out;  don't  hide  in  behind  an  initial.  These  old  Bible  names 
are  a  lot  better  than  these  new  fancy  ones.  There  must  be  a 
million  Donalds  and  Dorothys  right  now  scattered  over  the 
United  States.  Where  do  you  go  to  school,  boys?" 

She  plainly  interested  them.  She  was  a  new  species,  and 
had  for  them  the  charm  of  strangeness.  She  wore  on  her 
wrist  a  tiny  watch,  the  like  of  which  they  had  never  seen 
before,  and  one  of  them  poked  it  shyly  with  his  finger.  She 
accommodatingly  slipped  it  off  and  gave  it  to  them  to  exam- 
ine, telling  them  of  the  beautiful  shop  in  Geneva  where  she 
had  bought  it.  Susan  returned  to  share  in  these  further  reve- 
lations by  the  wonderful  lady.  The  spectacle  of  their  chil- 
dren gathered  at  the  erring  Lois's  knees,  filled  the  watchful 
sisters  with  dismay.  The  ease  of  the  woman's  conquests, 
her  continued  indifference  to  their  feelings,  caused  their  in- 
dignation to  wax  hot. 

"The  children  must  go.  Run  along  home  now,  and,  boys, 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  23 1 

see  that  Susie  gets  home  safely.  No ;  you  must  go  at  once!" 
said  Mrs.  Waterman. 

"Oo  bring  lady  home  to  ours  house,  mamma;  my  wants  to 
play  with  lady's  watch." 

"Skip  along,  Susan;  you'll  have  lots  of  time  to  play  with 
my  watch,"  said  Lois.  "Oh,  wait  a  minute!" 

Jeremiah  was  bringing  fresh  glasses  for  the  eggnog,  and 
she  sent  him  to  her  room  to  bring  down  some  packages  she 
had  left  on  her  bed. 

While  he  was  gone  she  romped  with  Susan,  running  back 
through  the  hall  into  the  dining-room  with  the  chirruping 
child  trotting  after  her,  and  paused  breathless  as  Jeremiah 
placed  the  parcels  on  the  center  table. 

"That  is  altogether  unnecessary;  the  children  have  had 
enough  presents,"  said  Mrs.  Fosdick.  "The  children  must 
go  at  once." 

"Oh,  these  are  only  trifles;  just  a  minute  more,"  Lois 
flung  over  her  shoulder. 

She  peered  into  a  box,  inspected  the  contents  with  a  mo- 
ment's quick  appraisement,  and  clasped  on  Susie's  chubby 
wrist  a  tiny  bracelet. 

"There,  Susan!   What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

Susan  thought  well  of  it  beyond  question  and  trotted  to 
her  mother  to  exhibit  the  treasure. 

Three  pairs  of  eyes  looked  upon  the  trinket  coldly.  Care- 
less of  their  scorn  Lois  was  enjoying  the  mystification  of  the 
young  Amzis,  to  whom  she  held  out  two  boxes  and  bade  them 
make  a  choice.  She  laughed  merrily  when  they  opened  them 
and  found  two  silver  watches  as  like  as  two  peas. 

There  was  no  questioning  Lois's  complete  success  with  the 
children.  Their  fathers  responded  in  grateful  praise  of  the 
gifts:  their  Uncle  Amzi  said  "  Thunder!  "  and  expressed  his 
delight. 

"Now,  you  youngsters  run  along  or  I'll  get  scolded  for 
keeping  you.  Scoot!" 

Lois  urged  them  to  the  door,  where  Susan  presented  her 
face  for  further  osculation. 


232  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"You  should  n't  have  done  that,  Lois;  it  was  altogether 
unnecessary,"  announced  Mrs.  Fosdick. 

"Oh,  those  things !  they  're  not  of  the  slightest  importance. 
I  did  n't  know  just  how  many  youngsters  you  had,  and  the 
shops  over  there  are  simply  irresistible." 

She  ladled  herself  a  glass  of  eggnog  composedly,  as  though 
wholly  unconscious  that  the  withdrawal  of  the  noncom- 
batants  had  cleared  the  field  for  battle. 

The  sisters,  having  sipped  Amzi's  Christmas  tipple  appre- 
hensively, noted  that  this  was  Lois's  second  glass. 

"Well,  what  are  you  all  doing  with  yourselves?  "  she  asked, 
sinking  into  a  chair.  "Kate,  I  believe  I  look  more  like  you 
than  either  Fanny  or  Jo.  I  think  you  are  taller  than  I  am, 
but  we  have  the  same  complexion.  My  face  is  all  chopped  up 
from  the  sea;  it  was  the  worst  crossing  I  ever  made,  but  I 
only  missed  one  day  on  deck.  The  captain  is  the  best  of 
fellows  and  kept  an  officer  trailing  me  to  see  that  I  did  n't 
tumble  overboard." 

She  glanced  at  Hastings  as  though  he  were  more  likely 
than  the  others  to  respond  to  observations  on  sea  travel.  He 
declared  that  he  always  preferred  winter  crossings;  it  was 
the  only  way  to  feel  the  power  and  majesty  of  the  sea. 

"  I  always  feel  so,"  said  Lois. 

Amzi  fidgeted  about  the  room,  wishing  they  would  all  go. 

"Lois,"  said  Mrs.  Waterman,  gathering  herself  together, 
"you  will  understand,  of  course,  that  we  don't  mean  to  be 
unkind,  but  we  feel  that  we  have  a  right  —  that  it  is  only 
proper  and  just  for  us  to  know  why  you  have  come  back  in 
this  way,  without  giving  us  any  warning,  so  that  we  might 
prepare  ourselves — " 

Lois's  brows  lifted  slightly;  the  slim  fingers  of  her  right 
hand  clasped  the  gold  band  by  which  the  blue  enameled 
watch  was  attached  to  her  left  wrist.  She  tilted  her  head  to 
one  side,  as  though  mildly  curious  as  to  the  drift  of  her  sis- 
ter's remark. 

"  Oh,  you  must  n't  mind  that  at  all!  I  should  have  been 
sorry  if  you  had  gone  to  any  trouble  for  me.  Dropping  in 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  233 

this  way,  what  should  one  expect?  "  A  pretty  shrug  expressed 
her  feeling  that  nothing  at  all  had  been  expected.  "Jo,  do 
you  remember  that  time  you  were  running  from  Captain 
Joshua  Wilson's  cow,  in  his  pasture  over  there  beyond  the 
college,  and  you  fell  over  a  fence  and  cracked  a  tooth,  and 
how  you  bawled  about  it?  And  I  suppose  that  gold  tooth  is 
a  memento  of  the  occasion.  We  used  to  be  the  maddest  of 
harum-scarums  in  those  days!" 

It  was  not  wholly  kind,  perhaps,  for  a  woman  whose  white, 
even  teeth  were  undisfigured  by  fillings  thus  to  direct  atten- 
tion to  the  marks  of  the  dentist's  tool  in  her  sister's  mouth. 
And  yet  Lois  had  not  meant  to  be  unkind ;  the  past  as  sym- 
bolized by  Captain  Wilson's  cow  sent  her  off  tangentially 
into  the  recent  history  of  Captain  Joshua's  family,  and  she 
demanded  information  as  to  the  Wilsons'  daughter  Amanda, 
who  ran  away  and  married  an  army  officer  she  had  met  at 
Columbus,  Ohio.  As  the  sisters  had  never  liked  Amanda 
Wilson,  they  were  not  pleased  to  be  obliged  to  confess  that 
the  marriage  had  been  a  satisfactory  one  in  every  particu- 
lar, and  that  Amanda's  husband  was  now  a  colonel.  The 
barometer  fell  steadily  and  the  gloom  of  the  Arctic  night 
deepened  in  the  faces  of  the  trio. 

"Anybody  have  any  more  eggnog?"  asked  Amzi  guile- 
lessly. 

"I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Fosdick  furiously,  "that  we've  all 
had  enough  of  that  stuff." 

This  was  the  least  bit  pointed,  as  her  husband  was  at  that 
moment  filling  a  fourth  glass  for  himself. 

Mrs.  Waterman  renewed  her  attack,  drawing  nearer  to 
the  culprit. 

"Of  course,  you  realize,  Lois,  that  after  all  that  has  hap- 
pened, your  coming  back  here,  particularly  unannounced, 
creates  a  very  delicate  situation.  It  can't  be  possible  that 
you  don't  understand  how  it  complicates  things — that  as  a 
matter  of  fact  — " 

"Oh,  as  a  matter  of  fact  it's  a  great  bore  to  talk  of  it!  I 
suppose  I  'm  the  one  that's  likely  to  be  most  annoyed,  but 


234  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

you  need  n't  waste  any  time  being  sorry  for  me.  I  did  n't 
have  to  come ;  nobody  asked  me.  You  '11  not  be  in  the  least 
embarrassed  by  my  coming.  I  don't  look  as  though  I  were 
in  deep  distress  about  anything,  do  I?  Well,  I'm  not.  So 
don't  prepare  to  weep  over  me.  Tears  are  bad  for  the  com- 
plexion and  puckering  up  your  face  makes  wrinkles." 

Fosdick  snickered,  an  act  of  treachery  on  his  part  which 
brought  his  wife  to  Mrs.  Waterman's  support.  Fanny  Fosdick 
was  readier  of  speech  than  Josephine,  who  was  inclined  to 
pomposity  when  she  tried  to  be  impressive. 

"You  can't  dodge  the  situation  in  any  such  way;  you 
had  no  right  to  come  back.  Your  coming  can  only  bring  up  the 
old  scandal,  that  we  have  been  trying  to  live  down.  It's  not 
a  thing  you  can  laugh  off.  A  woman  can't  do  what  you  did 
in  a  town  like  this  and  come  back  expecting  everybody  to 
smile  over  it." 

"And  Jack  Holton  has  just  been  here;  that  was  bad 
enough!"  threw  in  Mrs.  Hastings.  "And  if  you  are  still 
running  after  him  — " 

"Girls!"  exploded  Amzi,  "you'd  better  cut  all  this  out. 
You  're  not  going  to  help  matters  by  fussing  over  what  Lois 
did.  I'm  sure  we're  all  glad  to  have  her  back;  I'm  sure 
we've  always  hoped  she  would  come  back." 

"I  think  the  least  you  say  about  it  the  better,  Amzi," 
said  Mrs.  Waterman  witheringly.  "  It 's  your  fault  that  she 's 
here.  And  if  you  had  honored  us  with  your  confidence  and 
taken  our  advice  — " 

"Thunder!  what  would  you  have  done  about  it!  I  did  n't 
think  it  was  any  of  your  business." 

This  from  the  potential  benefactor  of  their  children  was 
not  reassuring.  The  financial  considerations  crystallized  by 
the  return  of  the  wanderer  were  not  negligible.  Every  one  in 
Montgomery  knew  that  Jack  Holton  had  come  back  to 
wrest  money  from  William,  and  it  was  inconceivable  that 
Lois  had  not  flung  herself  upon  Amzi  for  shelter  and  sup- 
port. And  as  they  had  long  assumed  that  she  was  a  pensioner 
upon  her  brother's  bounty,  they  were  now  convinced  by 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  235 

the  smartness  of  her  gown  and  her  general  "  air  "  as  of 
one  given  to  self-indulgence  in  the  world's  bazaars,  that 
she  had  become  a  serious  drain  upon  Amzi's  resources. 

"  I  think,"  declared  Mrs.  Waterman,  "  that  it  is  a  good  deal 
our  business.  We  can't  make  the  world  over  to  suit  our- 
selves, and  we  can't  fly  in  the  face  of  decency  without  getting 
scratched.  And  when  a  woman  brought  up  as  Lois  was 
does  what  she  did,  and  runs  through  with  her  money,  and 
comes  home  — ' ' 

She  gulped  in  her  effort  to  express  the  enormity  of  her 
sister's  transgressions;  whereupon  Mrs.  Fosdick  caught  the 
ball  and  flung  back :  — 

"Of  course,  if  Lois  is  in  need  of  help,  we  all  stand  ready  to 
help  her.  She  must  understand  that  we  feel  strongly  the 
ties  of  blood,  and  I  want  to  say  that  I  'm  willing  to  do  my 
share,  in  the  very  fullest  sense." 

Lois  rose  impatiently. 

"Don't  be  a  lot  of  geese,  you  girls!  Of  course,  you're  all 
cut  up  at  seeing  me  so  unexpectedly,  but  I  'm  not  going  to 
let  you  be  foolish  about  it.  It's  all  in  a  lifetime  anyway: 
and  I  really  wish  you  would  n't  say  things  which  to-morrow 
or  the  day  after  you  '11  be  sorry  for.  I  understand  as  perfectly 
as  though  you  ran  on  all  night  just  how  you  feel;  you're  hor- 
rified, ashamed,  outraged  —  all  those  things.  Bless  me,  you 
would  n't  be  respectable  women  if  you  were  not!  If  you  fell 
on  my  neck  and  kissed  me  I  should  resent  it.  Really  I  should ! 
You  would  be  a  disgrace  to  civilization  if  my  showing  up 
here  on  Christmas  morning  did  n't  give  you  nausea.  I  've 
been  divorced  twice,  and  anybody  with  any  sort  of  nice  feel- 
ing about  life  would  make  a  rumpus  about  it.  I'm  rather 
annoyed  about  it  myself ;  so  that 's  all  perfectly  regular.  You 
have  said  just  what  you  ought  to  have  said  and  you  feel 
just  as  you  should  feel.  Now  that's  understood,  why  not 
talk  of  something  else  and  be  comfortable?" 

The  three  men  had  discreetly  betaken  themselves  across 
the  hall  and  the  children  of  Amzi  II  were  alone. 

"You  forget,  Lois,  that  there  are  other  persons  besides 


236  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

ourselves  to  consider.  If  it  were  just  Amzi  and  us  — "  per- 
sisted Mrs.  Waterman,  shifting  her  ground  before  this 
shameless  confession. 

"There's  the  whole  world,  when  you  come  to  that,"  said 
Lois.  "What's  in  your  mind,  Jo,  —  Tom  and  Phil?  Well, 
there 's  nothing  novel  in  that ;  I  thought  about  them  a  good 
deal  before  I  came  back.  You  may  scratch  Tom  off  the  list ; 
he's  clear  out  of  it.  But  as  for  Phil  — " 

"As  for  Phil,  you  have  no  right  — " 

"I  have  n't  the  slightest  claim  on  Phil,  of  course;  I  never 
said  I  had,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  have.  Please  don't  as- 
sume, Fanny,  that  I  Ve  lost  all  the  wits  I  ever  had !  I  '11  say 
to  you  frankly  that  I  feel  that  my  coming  may  be  trouble- 
some to  Phil;  and  yet  the  fact  that  I  am  here"  (she  smiled 
and  threw  out  her  arms,  allowing  them  to  fall  to  emphasize 
the  futility  of  words)  —  "the  fact  that  I  am  here  shows  that 
I  have  considered  that  and  decided  to  take  the  risk  of  com- 
ing, in  spite  of  Phil." 

"Lois,  you  don't  seem  to  have  the  slightest  comprehen- 
sion of  the  case  —  not  the  slightest,"  urged  Mrs.  Waterman, 
resenting  the  smile  with  which  her  sister  had  ended.  "You 
brutally  abandoned  Phil;  and  now  you  come  back  to  spoil 
her  life.  I  did  n't  suppose  there  was  a  woman  in  the  world 
so  callous,  so  utterly  without  shame,  so  blindly  selfish  — 

Amzi  paused  in  his  stride  across  the  room  and  planted  him- 
self belligerently  before  his  oldest  sister.  His  eyes  bulged 
angrily. 

"Josie,  you  can't  talk  like  that  to  Lois;  not  in  this 
house!  I  tell  you,  Lois  is  all  right.  If  you  don't  like  her,  you 
can  let  her  alone.  I  'm  not  going  to  have' you  talk  to  her  like 
this  —  not  here.  Now  I  want  you  to  understand,  you, 
Josie;  you,  Kate;  you,  Fanny"  (he  indicated  each  in  turn 
with  his  pudgy  forefinger)  "  I  would  n't  let  her  badger  you, 
and  I  'm  not  going  to  let  you  jump  on  her." 

"You  talk  like  a  fool,  Amzi,"  said  Mrs.  Waterman,  angry 
tears  flashing  in  her  eyes.  "If  you  realized  what  we  have 
always  stood  for  in  this  community,  and  what  it  means  to 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  237 

you  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us;  and  poor  little  Phil,  and 
all  —  " 

"What  have  you  all  got  to  do  with  Phil?  Phil 's  all  right," 
he  shouted  hoarsely. 

"  I  think,"  shot  Mrs.  Hastings,  "that  the  easiest  thing  for 
Lois,  and  the  best  thing,  is  for  her  to  go  quietly  without 
seeing  Phil." 

"That's  my  own  opinion,"  affirmed  Mrs.  Fosdick. 

Lois  listened  with  her  detached  air,  as  though  the  subject 
under  discussion  related  to  some  one  she  knew  slightly  but 
was  not  particularly  interested  in. 

"Bless  me !  Such  a  wow  and  a  wumpus.  You  really  think 
I'd  better  go?"  she  asked  casually. 

The  three,  accepting  this  as  a  sign  of  yielding,  chorused 
an  eager,  sibilant  Yes. 

"Think  of  Phil,  just  at  the  threshold  of  her  life.  We've 
done  our  best  for  poor  dear  Phil,"  said  Mrs.  Fosdick  chok- 
ingly. "  Amzi  can't  deny  that  we  've  tried  to  do  our  duty  by 
her." 

"Of  course,  you  have  all  been  nice  to  her,"  remarked 
Lois,  picking  up  a  box  of  candy  and  shaking  it  to  bring  to 
the  surface  some  particular  sweatmeat. 

"  It  has  not  been  so  easy  to  bring  Phil  up!"  declared  Mrs. 
Waterman,  enraged  that  Phil's  mother  should  take  their 
assumption  of  responsibility  for  the  child's  upbringing  so 
lightly,  so  entirely  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"You  ought  to  know,  without  our  telling  you,  Lois," 
said  Mrs.  Hastings,  "that  your  coming  back  will  be  the 
worst  thing  possible  for  dear  Phil.  If  you  think  about  it 
quietly  for  an  hour  or  two,  I'm  sure  you  will  see  that." 

"You  ought  to  go  down  on  your  knees  to  God  with  it!" 
boomed  Mrs.  Waterman,  "before  you  think  of  contaminating 
her  young  life.  It's  only  right  that  we  should  talk  to  our 
pastor  before  coming  to  a  decision." 

Amzi  snorted  and  walked  to  the  window.  There  he  saw  as 
he  looked  out  upon  the  lawn  something  that  interested  him ; 
that  caused  a  grin  to  fasten  itself  upon  his  rubicund  counte- 


238  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

nance.  Phil,  under  a  fire  of  snowballs  from  a  group  of  boys 
who  were  waiting  with  their  Christmas  sleds  for  a  chance 
to  hitch  to  a  passing  vehicle,  gained  Amzi's  gate,  ducked 
behind  the  fence  to  gather  ammunition,  rose  and  delivered 
her  fire,  and  then  retreated  toward  the  house.  Her  aunts, 
still  stubbornly  confronting  her  mother,  and  sobbingly  de- 
manding that  Phil  be  kept  away  pending  a  recourse  to 
spiritual  counsel,  started  at  the  sound  of  an  unmistakable 
voice.  Amzi,  chewing  his  cigar,  watched  Phil's  flight  up  the 
path,  and  noted  the  harmless  fall  of  the  final  shots  about 
her.  She  waved  her  hand  from  the  doorstep,  commented 
derisively  upon  the  enemy's  marksmanship,  and  flung  the 
door  open  with  a  bang.  A  gust  of  cold  air  seemed  to  pre- 
cipitate Phil  into  the  room. 

"Hello,  Amy!   Merry  Christmas,  everybody!" 
Amzi  walked  toward  Lois.    "Phil,  this  is  your  mother." 
Mrs.  Hastings  glided  from  her  post  by  the  hearth  until 
she  stood  between  Phil  and  Lois,  who  stood  with  her  back 
to  the  center  table,  the  tips  of  her  fingers  resting  upon  it. 
Her  face  betrayed  no  apprehensions.    For  the  moment  she 
was  out  of  the  scene  and  the  contest  lay  between  Phil  and 
her  aunts. 

"  Phil,  this  is  not  the  place  for  you !  Go  into  the  other  room 
at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Hastings,  swallowing  a  sob. 

Amzi  struck  a  match  and  lighted  a  cigar  with  his  habitual 
three  puffs.  Across  the  flame  he  saw  Phil  sweeping  the  group 
with  her  eyes.  She  stood  erect,  her  hands  in  her  muff  to  which 
particles  of  snow  clung  where  it  had  fallen  in  her  encounter 
with  the  boys  at  the  gate.  The  crisp  air  had  brightened  her 
cheeks.  She  wore  that  look  of  unconcern  for  which  she  had 
been  distinguished  as  a  child.  She  moved  her  head  slightly, 
to  avoid  the  figure  of  the  intercepting  aunt,  and  met  for  an 
instant  her  mother's  indifferent,  unappealing  gaze.  Her  in- 
tuitions grasped  the  situation  and  weighed  its  nice  points. 
Phil  had  rarely  in  her  life  been  surprised  and  she  showed 
no  surprise  now. 

"It  's  rather  cold,  is  n't  it,  Phil?"  Lois  remarked. 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  239 

"Chilly  in  here  —  rather!"  said  Phil  in  the  same  key. 

"Phil!"  thundered  the  aunts. 

"Christmas  is  nicer  with  snow.  I  hate  green  Christmases," 
observed  Lois,  who  had  not  changed  her  position. 

"I've  never  seen  but  two,"  replied  Phil,  as  readily  as 
though  the  dialogue  had  been  rehearsed;  "and  I  hated 
them."  Then,  drawing  her  hand  from  her  muff,  she  flung  it 
out  in  a  burlesque  of  the  amateur  recitationist :  — 

"O  pray,  upon  my  Christmas  morn, 
Let  snow  the  leaf-shorn  boughs  adorn. 

How  is  that,  Amy !  A  little  worse  than  my  worst?"  She 
stepped  round  her  Aunt  Kate,  shook  hands  with  her  mother, 
then  upon  second  thought  dropped  her  muff,  seized  both  her 
hands,  and  kissed  her. 

" Were  you  all  really  just  about  going?  I'm  late!  Made 
nine  stops  on  the  way,  took  a  brief  sleigh-ride  with  Captain 
Wilson,  ate  too  much  butter-scotch  at  the  Bartletts',  and 
here  we  are!" 

She  pushed  a  chair  toward  the  hearth  so  violently  that 
the  castors  screeched  and  her  Aunt  Kate  jumped  to  avoid 
being  run  over. 

"Why  not  sit  down,  mamma?  Amy,  where 's  my  present? 
Here's  me  to  you." 

She  picked  up  her  muff,  drew  out  a  parcel  tied  with  red 
ribbon,  with  a  bit  of  mistletoe  tucked  under  the  bow-knot, 
and  tossed  it  to  Amzi. 

"  It's  perfectly  bully  that  you're  back,"  she  said,  address- 
ing herself  again  to  her  mother.  "Actually  here  all  right, 
—  a  real  Christmas  surprise.  I  '11  take  that  up  with  Amy 
later;  he's  no  business  playing  such  a  trick.  But  it  must 
tickle  you  to  see  how  dee-lighted  everybody  is!  Oh,  are  you 
off,  Aunt  Josie?  Hello,  Lawraice!"  She  turned  to  wave  her 
hand  to  Hastings  at  the  door,  where  Waterman,  Fosdick, 
and  he  had  witnessed  their  wives'  discomfiture.  Those  ladies 
were  now  attempting  to  impart  to  their  exits  the  majesty  of 
righteous  indignation. 


240  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Phil  kicked  an  old  carpeted  footstool  to  the  hearth,  and 
dropped  upon  it  at  her  mother's  feet. 

"What  an  old  fraud  Amy  is  not  to  have  told  me!" 

She  waited  for  the  ultimate  sounds  of  departure,  and 
kissed  her  fingers  to  the  closed  door. 

Then  she  raised  her  arms  quickly  and  drew  down  her 
mother's  head  until  their  cheeks  touched. 

"Thunder!"  said  Amzi,  and  left  them  together. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES 

PHIL  reached  home  shortly  before  one,  and  called  her 
father's  name  in  the  hall  without  eliciting  a  response.  The 
odor  of  roasting  turkey  was  in  the  house,  and  she  noted  that 
the  table  was  set  for  four.  The  maid-of-all-work  was  mould- 
ing cranberry  jelly  when  Phil  thrust  her  head  into  the 
kitchen. 

"There's  going  to  be  company  for  dinner,"  the  woman 
explained.  "Your  pa  came  in  and  told  me  so.  He's  gone 
down  to  his  office  for  a  minute." 

Phil  had  not  heard  that  they  were  to  have  guests.  She 
stood  in  the  dining-room  viewing  the  two  extra  places  and 
wondering  whom  her  father  had  asked.  Usually  on  holidays, 
when  the  rest  of  the  family  assembled  at  Amzi's,  the  Kirk- 
woods  had  eaten  their  midday  meal  alone.  If  he  had  asked 
the  Bartletts'  to  share  this  particular  Christmas  feast  it  must 
have  been  without  premeditation,  for  she  had  herself  visited 
the  sisters  on  her  way  to  Amzi's,  and  nothing  had  been  said 
about  a  later  meeting.  It  was  not  like  her  father  to  invite 
guests  without  consulting  her.  Her  mother's  return  had 
changed  the  world's  orbit.  Nothing  was  as  it  had  been; 
nothing  seemed  quite  real.  The  house  in  Buckeye  Lane, 
about  which  so  many  happy  memories  clustered,  was  sud- 
denly become  distorted  and  all  out  of  drawing,  as  though 
she  viewed  it  through  a  defective  window-pane.  She  went 
upstairs  and  glanced  warily  into  her  father's  bedroom,  as 
though  fearing  to  find  ghosts  there. 

As  she  redressed  her  hair  she  regarded  herself  in  the  mir- 
ror with  a  new  curiosity.  She  was  a  stranger  to  herself ;  she 
was  not  the  same  Phil  Kirkwood  who  had  stood  before  the 
glass  that  morning,  but  a  very  different  person — a  Phil  who 


242  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

had  come  suddenly  upon  a  hidden  crevasse  in  the  bright, 
even  meadow  of  her  life  and  peered  into  an  undreamed-of 
abyss. 

If  her  mother  —  that  mother  who  had  always  lived  less 
vividly  in  her  imagination  than  her  favorite  characters  in 
fiction  —  had  not  proved  so  bewilderingly,  so  enthrallingly 
captivating,  so  wholly  charming  and  lovable,  she  might  have 
grappled  the  situation  with  some  certainty.  But  no  woman 
had  ever  been  like  that !  Her  mother  was  the  most  wonderful 
being  in  the  world!  Little  by  little  through  the  years  her 
aunts  had  been  creating  in  Phil's  mind  a  vulgar,  vain,  wicked 
figure  and  pointing  to  it  as  a  fair  portrait  of  her  mother.  She 
had  always  disliked  her  aunts ;  she  found  herself  hating  them 
now  with  a  passionate  intensity  that  frightened  her. 

She  flung  herself  down  in  the  window-seat  and  looked 
toward  Main  Street  with  unseeing  eyes.  A  wonderful  voice 
murmured  in  her  ears,  speaking  a  new  language.  She  tried 
to  recall  what  had  been  said  as  she  crouched  at  her  mother's 
feet,  her  head  in  her  lap,  before  the  fire  in  Amzi's  living-room ; 
but  it  was  like  the  futile  effort  to  recall  an  elusive  strain  of 
music.  She  had  felt  curiously  no  disparity  of  years  in  that 
interview;  it  had  been  like  a  talk  with  a  newfound  sister, 
or  with  a  girl  with  whom  she  had  established  one  of  the 
sudden  intimate  friendships  of  school  days.  This  wonderful 
Lois  touched  with  a  warm  brilliancy  innumerable  points  and 
surfaces  that  flashed  and  gleamed  before  Phil's  fascinated, 
eager  eyes.  She  had  satisfied  her  curiosity  as  to  Phil  in  a 
dozen  direct  questions  that  elicited  information  without 
leaving  any  ground  for  discussing  it.  Was  Phil  well?  —  and 
happy?  What  was  Phil  most  interested  in?  Had  there  been 
money  enough  for  her  needs?  And  always  with  the  implica- 
tion that  if  the  answers  to  these  questions  should  not  prove 
satisfactory,  it  did  not  greatly  matter,  as  the  deficiencies 
could  easily  be  supplied. 

They  were  to  see  each  other,  Phil  and  this  enchanting 
mother  —  to-morrow ;  yes,  there  had  been  definite  agree- 
ment upon  that.  But  Lois  had  seemed  as  indifferent  to  days 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  243 

after  to-morrow  as  to  days  before  yesterday.  And  while  this 
troubled  Phil,  she  had  caught  so  much  of  her  mother's  spirit, 
she  had  been  so  responsive  to  the  new  amazing  language  that 
fell  so  fascinatingly  from  her  mother's  lips,  that  she  accepted 
the  promise  of  a  single  to-morrow  without  misgivings.  Suf- 
ficient unto  the  day  was  the  wonder  thereof! 

She  drew  from  her  pocket  a  wristlet  of  diamonds,  which 
Lois  had  given  her  as  they  parted  at  Amzi's  door.  The  gems 
sparkled  in  the  sunny  window.  It  was  a  trinket  of  beauty  and 
value,  and  Phil  clasped  it  upon  her  wrist  and  contemplated 
it  with  awe  and  delight.  It  was  worth,  she  assumed,  almost 
or  quite  as  much  as  the  house  in  which  she  lived ;  and  yet 
her  mother  had  bestowed  it  upon  her  with  gay  apologies  for 
its  paltriness  —  this  mother  out  of  a  fairy-tale,  this  girlish 
mother  with  the  wise,  beautiful  eyes,  and  most  entrancing 
of  voices. 

The  gate  clicked  and  she  glanced  down  at  the  yard.  Her 
father  was  bringing  Rose  and  Nan  to  the  house!  They 
were  walking  briskly,  and  advanced  to  the  door  laughing. 
The  women  looked  up,  saw  Phil,  and  waved  their  hands. 
Her  father  flung  a  snowball  at  the  window.  Happiness  was 
in  the  faces  of  the  trio  —  a  happiness  that  struck  Phil  with 
forebodings.  She  had  never  in  her  imaginings  thought  an 
hour  would  come  when  she  would  begrudge  her  father  any 
joy  that  might  come  to  him;  even  less  had  it  ever  seemed 
possible  that  she  would  look  forward  with  dread  to  meet- 
ing Rose  and  Nan.  She  hid  her  mother's  gift  and  ran  down 
to  let  them  in. 

"You  remember,"  said  her  father,  "the  Maryland  epi- 
cure's remark  about  the  turkey  being  an  annoying  bird  - 
just  a  leetle  too  big  for  one  and  not  quite  big  enough  for  two? 
I  decided  to  see  how  it  would  work  for  four." 

"We  did  n't  know  we  were  coming,  Phil,  when  we  saw  you. 
Your  father  came  along  afterward  and  found  we  were  going 
to  eat  a  plain,  domestic  duck  by  ourselves;  and  we  weakly, 
meekly  fell,"  explained  Rose. 

"There  can't  be  a  real  Christmas  unless  there's  a  party ; 


244  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

and  I  thought  it  about  time  we  had  a  quiet  little  celebration 
of  'The  Gray  Knight  of  Picardy'  —  seventh  edition  now 
printing,  and  the  English  rights  well  placed.  Phil,  it's  up  to 
you  to  carry  on  the  literary  partnership  with  Nan.  I  'm  out 
of  it.  I  'm  going  to  write  the  publisher  at  once  to  go  ahead 
and  enlighten  the  wondering  world  as  to  the  authorship 
of  the  '  Gray  Knight '  —  Miss  Nancy  Bartlett,  of  Buckeye 
Lane!" 

"You  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Tom,"  declared  Nan 
with  emphasis;  and  immediately  blushed. 

This  was  the  first  time  Phil  had  heard  Nan  call  her  father 
by  his  first  name.  To  be  sure,  he  always  addressed  both 
Nan  and  Rose  by  their  Christian  names ;  but  that  was  not 
surprising,  as  he  had  known  the  Bartletts'  well  from  the 
time  of  his  coming  to  the  college,  when  every  one  called 
him  Professor  or  Doctor. 

At  the  table  Nan  and  Kirkwood  did  most  of  the  talking, 
and  now  and  then  they  exchanged  glances  that  expressed  to 
Phil  some  new  understanding  between  them.  It  had  never 
before  been  so  clear  to  Phil  how  perfectly  sympathetic  these 
two  were.  Her  father  was  a  clever  man  and  Nan  Bartlett  an 
unusually  clever  woman.  At  other  times  Phil  would  have  de- 
lighted in  their  sharp  fencing;  the  snap  and  crackle  of  their 
dialogue ;  but  her  heart  ached  to-day.  She  felt  the  presence 
of  a  specter  at  the  table.  She  heard  that  other  voice  with 
its  new  and  thrilling  accents,  that  careless,  light  laugh  with 
its  gentle  mockery.  She  was  recalled  from  a  long  reverie 
by  a  question  from  Rose. 

"How  did  you  find  the  gathering  of  the  clans  at  Amzi's?" 

"Just  about  as  cheerful  as  usual,"  replied  Phil  colorlessly. 

"Amzi's  seat  will  be  in  the  front  row  of  the  heavenly 
choir-loft,"  observed  Nan.  "  What  he  has  taken  from  those 
women  has  given  him  a  clear  title  to  joys  ineffable." 

"Amy  is  not  a  mere  man,"  said  Phil;  "he  is  a  great  soul." 

She  had  spoken  so  earnestly  that  they  all  looked  at  her 
in  surprise.  If  she  had  referred  to  her  uncle  as  a  brick,  or 
a  grand  old  sport,  or  the  dearest  old  Indian  on  the  reserva- 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  245 

tion,  they  would  have  taken  it  as  a  matter  of  course;  but 
Phil  was  not  quite  herself  to-day. 

"Don't  you  feel  well,  Phil?"  asked  Nan,  so  pointedly 
referring  to  the  unwonted  sobriety  with  which  she  had 
spoken  of  her  uncle  that  they  all  laughed. 

"The  aunts  must  have  been  unusually  vexatious  to-day. 
You're  not  quite  up  to  pitch,  Phil.  Too  much  candy  has 
spoiled  your  appetite,"  remarked  her  father. 

"  I  guess  my  sweet  tooth  did  betray  me  into  indiscretions," 
she  answered  with  an  effort  at  lightness;  and  added, 

"The  bonbon  and  the  caramel 
Poor  Phyllis  did  waylay; 
And  being  only  a  weak  mortal  young  thing  to  whom 

Christmas  conies  but  once  a  year, 
Is  it  surprising  what  befell  ? 
For  she  knew  not  the  sad  word  Nay." 

"Oh,  unutterable  horrors!  That's  the  worst  you  ever 
perpetrated!"  cried  her  father.  "Just  for  that  you  shall  eat 
another  piece  of  mince  pie." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  Tom;  we  must  not  add  to  the  suf- 
ferings of  one  whose  own  rhymes  are  punishment  enough," 
said  Nan. 

The  two  women  looked  at  Phil  more  closely.  She  seemed 
preoccupied  and  her  contributions  to  their  banter  were  per- 
functory and  spiritless.  When  they  were  established  in  the 
living-room,  Phil  crouched  on  a  stool  by  the  fire.  Conceal- 
ment and  dissimulation  were  so  wholly  foreign  to  her  nature 
that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  she  resisted  an  impulse  to 
blurt  out  the  whole  thing.  They  would  know  within  a  few 
hours  of  her  mother's  return,  and  the  fact  that  she  had 
withheld  the  information  would  make  her  situation  more 
difficult.  She  saw  her  father  furtively  touch  Nan's  hand; 
he  was  beyond  question  very  much  in  love  with  her ;  and 
Nan  had  practically  confessed,  on  that  memorable  after- 
noon following  Amzi's  party,  her  regard  for  Kirkwood. 
Then  it  had  seemed  to  Phil  the  most  natural  and  rational 
thing  in  the  world  for  her  father  and  Nan  to  marry;  but  now 


246  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

in  this  whirling  chaos  to  which  the  world  had  been  reduced, 
the  thought  of  it  was  abhorrent.  No  wonder  they  looked 
at  her  curiously,  not  understanding  her  silence.  Phil  loved 
them  all !  Phil  wanted  everybody  to  be  happy !  Yet  clearly 
happiness  even  in  the  small  circle  of  her  nearest  and  dearest 
was  impossible.  Her  nimble  fancy  led  her  over  rough  cha- 
otic peaks  in  an  effort  to  find  a  point  from  which  to  survey 
the  general  desolation.  In  practical  terms  she  reasoned  that 
men  and  women  sometimes  remarried  after  a  long  estrange- 
ment. Perhaps  —  But  she  was  unable  to  push  beyond  that 
perhaps. 

The  bell  rang  and  she  was  glad  of  the  interruption.  Fred 
Holton  had  come  to  call.  Kirkwood  greeted  him  cordially, 
and  they  widened  the  circle  before  the  grate  to  admit  him. 
Phil  addressed  herself  to  Fred  with  the  kindliness  he  always 
inspired  in  her.  He  was  a  trifle  abashed  by  the  presence  of 
the  Bartletts,  and  on  seeing  them,  furtively  dropped  a 
package  he  had  brought  on  a  chair  by  the  door.  Phil, 
inspecting  it  glancingly,  saw  her  name  scribbled  on  the 
paper  wrapper. 

" Christmas  gift!  Who  guesses  this  is  a  Christmas  gift  for 
me?" 

"Everybody!"  cried  the  Bartletts. 

"  I  guess  it 's  a  book.  I  hope  it 's  a  book.  I  shall  be  disap- 
pointed if  it  is  n't  a  book,"  continued  Phil. 

Fred  blushed,  and  said  it  was  n't  anything.  The  clerk  in 
the  bookstore  had  recommended  it,  and  he  thought  Phil 
might  like  it.  Phil  tore  off  the  wrapper  and  held  up  "The 
Gray  Knight  of  Picardy."  The  sight  of  it  sent  a  quick,  sharp 
pain  through  her  heart.  It  was  no  longer  merely  the  best  tale 
of  the  season  that  her  father  and  one  of  her  dearest  friends 
had  written,  but  a  book  her  father  and  the  woman  he  loved 
had  written ;  and  this,  in  the  light  of  the  day's  events,  was 
a  very  different  matter. 

"Thank  you,  Fred.  It's  nice  of  you  to  think  of  me.  And 
I'm  sure  it's  a  good  story." 

"They  say  it's  awfully  funny,"  said  Fred. 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  H7 

Nothing  seemed  funny  to  Phil ;  but  she  exerted  herself  to 
be  entertaining.  She  was  in  a  mood  to  be  touched  by  his  gift. 
Charles  Holton  had  sent  her  a  box  of  roses  from  Indianapolis 
and  they  were  nodding  from  the  tall  vase  on  the  mantel.  She 
saw  Fred  eyeing  them,  and  hastened  to  say  that  books  made 
the  finest  possible  gifts. 

"It  must  be  lonely  in  the  country  to-day,"  remarked  Nan. 
"But  I  suppose  you've  spent  the  day  in  town." 

"Only  part  of  it,"  replied  Fred.  "I  could  n't  desert  the 
live  stock;  and  I  have  a  man  there  with  me.  We  had  our 
Christmas  feast  and  I  hopped  on  the  interurban." 

"Turkey?  "asked  Phil. 

"  No ;  rabbit.  Rabbit 's  much  more  wholesome  for  Christ- 
mas than  turkey.  We  sell  turkeys  to  the  city  folks  and  feast 
on  rabbits  when  we  need  them.  I  poached  this  one,  too.  But 
don't  tell  Mr.  Montgomery.  It  ran  under  his  fence  into  my 
pasture,  and  fearing  it  was  my  last  chance  for  Christmas 
dinner,  I  pulled  the  trigger.  Is  that  a  high  crime,  Mr.  Kirk- 
wood?" 

"Not  at  all.  We'll  assume  that  it  was  really  your  rabbit 
that  had  just  been  out  for  a  stroll  on  Mr.  Montgomery's 
side  of  the  fence.  I  '11  promise  to  get  you  off  if  you  're  prose- 
cuted." 

"I  should  think  it  would  be  quite  grand  and  splendid  to 
own  a  farm  and  go  out  and  pick  off  game  that  way,"  said 
Phil  musingly.  "Monarch  of  all  you  survey,  and  that  sort 
of  thing.  When  I  had  a  Flobert  rifle  in  my  enchanted  youth 
and  shot  sparrows  in  our  back  yard,  I  had  something  of  the 
same  exalted  feeling.  Only  our  estate  here  is  too  limited.  The 
neighbors  kicked ;  so  many  wild  shots.  Absurd  how  sensitive 
people  are.  But  I  suppose  if  I  had  n't  broken  a  few  glasses  of 
new  quince  preserves  the  lady  across  our  alley  had  put  to 
sun  in  her  kitchen  window,  I  might  never  have  lost  the  gun." 

"I  don't  seem  to  remember  that  incident  of  your  career, 
Phil,"  said  Rose. 

"I  hope  nobody  does.  The  lady's  husband  happened  to 
be  the  town  marshal,  and  he  told  daddy  a  lot  of  sad  things 


248  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

that  were  going  to  happen  to  me  if  I  did  n't  stop  shooting 
at  his  perfectly  good  wife  as  she  followed  her  usual  avoca- 
tions." 

The  Bartletts  were  relieved  to  find  Phil  restored  to  some- 
thing like  her  normal  cheerful  self.  They  all  enlarged  upon 
the  impingement  of  her  bullets  upon  the  marshal's  wife's 
quinces,  discussing  the  subject  in  the  mock-serious  vein 
that  was  common  in  their  intercourse.  If  Phil  had  killed 
her  neighbor,  would  it  have  been  proper  for  the  defense  to 
prove  that  the  quinces  were  improperly  prepared?  Kirk- 
wood  insisted  that  such  testimony  would  have  been  grossly 
irregular  and  that  an  able  jurist  like  Judge  Walters  would 
certainly  have  rejected  it.  They  played  with  the  idea  of 
Phil's  heinous  crime  until  they  wore  it  out. 

"Put  on  the  black  cap  and  tell  me  when  I  'm  to  die,"  said 
Phil.  "  I  'm  guilty.  I  really  did  kill  the  woman  and  I  buried 
her  under  the  plum  tree  in  her  back  yard.  Now  let's  think 
of  something  cheerful." 

Nan  and  Kirkwood  dropped  out  of  the  circle  a  little  later, 
and  Phil  heard  them  talking  in  subdued  tones  in  the  library. 
Rose  withdrew  to  the  window  and  became  absorbed  in  a 
book. 

"I  saw  you  and  Charlie  that  day  you  climbed  up  the 
bluff,"  said  Fred  the  moment  Rose  was  out  of  hearing.  "  I 
hope  you  won't  do  that  any  more.  I  hope  you  won't  ever 
do  things  like  that  again!"  he  ended  earnestly. 

"It  was  just  a  lark;  why  should  n't  I  do  it?" 

"The  chances  were  that  you'd  fall  and  be  killed.  You 
had  no  right  to  take  the  chance.  And  Charlie  had  no  right  to 
let  you  do  it." 

"Charlie  hadn't  anything  to  do  with  it.  He  couldn't 
have  helped  himself,"  said  Phil  defensively. 

"Then  the  rest  of  them  down  on  the  creek  should  have 
stopped  you.  It  was  the  craziest  thing  I  ever  saw." 

"I  suppose  it  was  silly,"  Phil  admitted  tamely,  "but  it's 
all  over  now." 

It  was  in  her  heart  to  say  that  nothing  greatly  mattered, 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  249 

and  yet  there  was  a  certain  comfort  in  knowing  that  he  cared. 
His  blue  eyes  told  her  frankly  how  much  he  cared;  and  she 
was  not  unmindful  of  the  wistful  smile  with  which  he 
regarded  her. 

His  glance  wandered  from  her  face  to  the  long-stemmed 
roses  on  the  mantel-shelf  behind  her.  He  knew  perfectly 
well  where  those  roses  had  come  from.  She  saw  the  resent- 
ment in  his  eyes.  The  resumption  of  social  relations  between 
her  aunts  and  the  Holtons  that  had  brought  her  in  contact 
with  these  nephews  of  Jack  Holton  struck  her  in  a  new 
light,  with  Fred  there  before  her,  with  Charles's  roses 
flaunting  themselves  unrebuked  in  her  father's  house.  She 
had  no  business  to  be  receiving  Fred  Holton;  Charles's 
flowers  assumed  suddenly  a  dire  significance.  She  meant  to 
be  rid  of  them  the  moment  she  could  do  so  without  attract- 
ing attention.  It  was  on  her  tongue  to  say  something  unkind 
to  Fred;  her  loyalty  to  her  mother  seemed  to  demand  it. 
And  yet  neither  Fred  nor  Charles  had  been  in  any  wise  re- 
sponsible for  her  mother's  tragedy.  Fred  had  risen  and 
stood  before  the  fire  with  his  arms  folded.  The  care  he  took 
to  make  himself  presentable,  expressed  in  his  carefully 
brushed  clothes;  the  polish  on  his  rough  shoes;  his  clean- 
shaven face,  touched  her  now  as  at  other  times.  She  won- 
dered whether,  if  they  had  been  alone,  she  would  not  have 
confessed  her  perplexities  and  asked  his  counsel.  In  their 
talks  she  had  been  impressed  by  his  rugged  common  sense, 
and  her  plight  was  one  that  demanded  the  exercise  of  just 
that  quality.  Rose  turned  the  pages  of  her  book.  Her  father 
and  Nan  continued  their  conference  in  low  tones  in  the  ad- 
joining room. 

"You  promise  —  don't  you  —  that  you  won't  ever  do 
foolish  things  like  that  any  more,"  and  Fred  put  out  his 
hand  half  in  farewell,  half  as  though  the  clasp  he  invited 
would  mean  a  pledge. 

' '  Please  forget  it.  I  '11  probably  never  have  another  chance. 
That  was  the  kind  of  thing  you  do  only  once ;  there  would  n't 
be  any  fun  in  doing  it  over  again." 


25o  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Your  father  has  been  mighty  nice  to  me:  I  wanted  to  tell 
him  I  appreciated  it.  I  felt  I  'd  like  to  say  that  to  him  on 
Christmas  —  just  a  kind  of  sentimental  feeling  about  it. 
But  you  please  say  it  for  me.  He'll  understand;  I  could  n't 
say  it  before  the  others." 

She  responded  passively:  there  were  a  good  many  things 
that  she  must  say  to  her  father! 

Kirkwood  and  Nan  reappeared  as  they  heard  Fred  saying 
good-bye  to  Rose. 

Nan  said  she  and  her  sister  must  be  going,  too,  as  they  had 
some  calls  to  make.  At  the  door  Nan  kissed  Phil,  and  asked 
her  to  come  to  see  her  the  next  day.  The  kiss  and  this 
special  invitation,  half-whispered,  confirmed  Phil's  belief 
that  her  father  and  Nan  would  have  told  her  of  their  engage- 
ment if  Fred's  coming  had  not  interfered.  She  was  glad  for 
the  delay,  and  yet  it  would  have  been  easier  in  many  ways 
to  have  met  the  issue  squarely  before  Nan  and  Rose.  She  and 
her  father  watched  Fred  and  the  women  pass  from  sight 
toward  town.  . 

"He  seems  to  be  a  nice  fellow,"  remarked  Kirkwood,  as 
they  returned  to  the  living-room  —  "a  clean,  manly  sort 
of  chap." 

"  He 's  all  that,"  replied  Phil.  "  He  came  to  thank  you  for 
something:  he's  too  shy  to  talk  much  in  company  and  he 
asked  me  to  tell  you  how  much  he  appreciated  something  or 
other  you  had  done  for  him." 

"Queer  chap,  for  a  Holton,"  Kirkwood  observed,  striking 
a  match  on  the  underside  of  the  slate  mantel-shelf.  ' '  There 's 
a  real  nobility  in  that  boy.  He  did  n't  tell  you  what  he 
wanted  to  speak  to  me  about?  That's  better  yet.  I  im- 
agine his  brother  is  n't  so  shy  about  publishing  his  good 
works  before  men." 

Kirkwood's  eyes  sought  the  roses.  The  "attentions" 
Phil  was  receiving  had  roused  in  him  the  mixed  bewilder- 
ment and  awe  with  which  a  father  realizes  that  he  has  on 
his  hands  a  daughter  upon  whom  other  men  have  begun 
to  look  covetously.  Half  a  dozen  young  fellows  were  dancing 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  251 

attendance  upon  Phil.  In  the  hotel  and  at  the  theater 
in  Indianapolis  men  and  women  had  paid  her  the  tribute  of 
a  second  glance,  and  Mrs.  Fitch  had  been  enthusiastic 
about  her.  His  tolerant  spirit  had  not  visited  upon  the 
young  Holtons  the  sins  of  their  uncle.  Charles's  devotion  to 
Phil  had  rather  amused  him ;  he  had  taken  it  as  an  oblique 
compliment  to  himself,  assuming  that  it  was  due  to  anxiety 
on  Charles's  part  to  ingratiate  himself  with  Phil's  father 
quite  as  much  as  with  Phil. 

"  I  suppose  what  Fred  meant  was  a  little  matter  between 
us  in  the  traction  business.  You  know  that  farm  he  set- 
tled on  next  to  Amzi's?  He's  turned  it  over  to  me." 

"You  mean  he  does  n't  own  it  any  more?"  asked  Phil. 

"Strictly  speaking,  no.  In  the  general  Hoi  ton  mess  he 
thought  he  ought  to  surrender  the  property.  Rather  quix- 
otic, but  creditable  to  the  boy.  You  see  Charlie  was  executor 
of  their  father's  estate.  Charlie 's  beyond  doubt  a  very 
smooth  young  person.  And  no  end  plausible.  He  got  Fred 
to  take  that  farm  in  settlement  of  all  claims  against  Samuel's 
estate.  And  when  Fred  found  out  there  was  trouble  over  his 
father's  financiering  of  the  Sycamore  he  hopped  on  the 
trolley  and  came  to  the  city  and  turned  over  the  farm  to 
me  as  trustee.  He  seemed  no  end  grateful  to  me  for  allow- 
ing him  to  do  it." 

"  But  you  did  n't  let  him  —  it  is  n't  fair !  Why  the  farm 's 
no  good  anyhow!  And  besides,  Charlie  would  n't  have  done 
Fred  an  injury.  He  talked  to  me  the  other  day  at  his  aunt's 
skating-party  about  all  that  traction  business  and  I  'm  sure 
he  never  meant  any  harm.  He  could  n't  help  what  his  father 
did.  But  to  take  Fred's  farm  away  —  why,  daddy,  that 
would  be  the  supreme  grand  lirm'te/" 

Kirkwood  laughed  and  pinched  her  chin. 

"What  a  terrible  young  person  you  are!  You  seem  to 
forget  that  I  'm  not  the  Holtons'  attorney.  I  'm  hired  by  the 
poor  innocents  who  bought  Sam  Holton's  bonds,  and  it's 
my  business  to  get  all  the  money  for  them  I  can.  Charles's 
tricks  with  his  father's  estate  only  figure  incidentally,  but 


252  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

they  have  a  dark  look.  It's  merely  a  case  of  the  sins  of  the 
parents  being  visited  upon  the  children  — " 

He  had  been  speaking  half -carelessly,  not  really  heeding 
what  he  said,  and  he  arrested  himself  with  an  impatient  shrug 
of  the  shoulders.  The  visitation  of  a  parent's  sins  upon  chil- 
dren was  not  a  subject  for  discussion  in  that  household,  as 
Phil  realized  with  a  poignancy  born  of  her  morning's  adven- 
ture. Kirkwood  was  instantly  contrite  as  he  saw  tears  in 
Phil's  eyes.  He  would  not  for  worlds  have  wounded  her. 
It  was  impossible  for  him  to  know  how  in  her  new  sensitive- 
ness this  careless  speech,  which  a  day  earlier  would  have 
passed  unheeded,  aroused  all  her  instincts  of  defense.  She 
was  half-aware  of  the  irony  by  which  their  talk  about  the 
nephews  of  Jack  Hoi  ton  had  carried  them  with  so  fateful  a 
directness  to  her  mother. 

Kirkwood  frowned.  His  former  wife  was  of  all  subjects 
the  most  ungrateful  on  this  Christmas  day.  The  old 
wounds  had  healed  absolutely  and  the  scars  even  had  van- 
ished in  his  new  hope  and  happiness.  He  did  not  mean  to 
have  his  day  spoiled.  He  crossed  the  room  to  the  window 
where  Phil  stood  pulling  idly  at  a  withered  geranium  leaf. 
He  drew  her  round  and  kissed  her. 

"Forgive  me,  dear  old  Phil!  I  would  n't  hurt  you  for  ten 
thousand  kingdoms.  And  I  did  n't  mean  that.  I  don't  think 
it;  moreover,  I  don't  believe  in  that  philosophy." 

His  contrition  was  unmistakedly  sincere;  yet  she  knew 
that  if  he  had  not  obliterated  the  thought  of  her  mother 
from  his  mind  he  would  not  have  let  slip  that  reference  to 
parental  sins.  His  forgetfulness  was  worse  than  the  offense 
itself. 

She  experienced  a  sensation,  new  in  all  their  intercourse, 
of  wanting  to  hurt  him.  This  was,  in  all  kindness  and  charity, 
the  instant  for  announcing  her  mother's  return;  and  yet 
before  making  that  disclosure  Phil  meant  to  force  him  to  tell 
her  in  so  many  words  that  he  was  engaged  to  marry  Nan. 
This  was  the  most  astonishing  of  all  Phil's  crowding  expe- 
riences of  the  day,  that  she  harbored  with  cruel  satisfaction 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  253 

the  thought  of  inflicting  pain  upon  her  father  —  her  old 
comrade,  with  whom  she  had  so  joyfully  camped  and 
tramped  and  lived  so  many  happy  days  in  this  little  house, 
where  now  for  the  first  time  shadows  danced  malevolently. 

"I  wanted  this  to  be  a  happy  day,  Phil.  What  do  we  care 
about  the  Holtons  or  Sycamore  Traction !  Charlie  and  Fred 
are  all  right,  and  I  must  say  that  I've  been  a  good  deal 
pleased  by  the  attitude  of  both  the  young  fellows.  But  I 
have  something  to  tell  you;  something  you've  been  pre- 
pared for  for  a  long  time  in  that  wise,  old  head  of  yours. 
It's  made  me  the  happiest  man  in  the  world;  and  I  hope  it 
will  make  you  almost  as  happy.  And  I  believe  it's  for  your 
good ;  that  it 's  going  to  be  a  great  big  factor  in  working  out 
all  your  problems  and  mine !  Come  now,  forgive  me,  and  tell 
me  whether  you  want  three  guesses  as  to  what  it  is!" 

He  rested  the  tips  of  his  fingers  on  her  shoulders,  standing 
off  and  looking  at  her  with  all  the  old  fondness  in  his  eyes. 
He  had  spoken  buoyantly ;  his  manner  was  that  of  a  young 
man  about  to  confide  a  love  affair  to  a  sympathetic  sister. 

Phil  slipped  from  under  his  hands  and  stood  rigid,  with 
her  back  against  the  geranium  box.  She  swallowed  a  sob 
and  lifted  her  head  to  meet  the  blow.  He  would  not  have  it 
thus,  but  caught  her  hands  and  swung  them  in  a  tight 
clasp. 

"It's  Nan,  Phil,  dear:  Nan's  promised  to  marry  me! 
She's  been  saying  she  never  would.  It  was  only  last  night 
she  agreed  to  take  this  poor  old  wreck  and  try  to  make  a  man 
of  me.  We  meant  to  tell  you  to-day  if  Fred  Holton  had  n't 
come  in,  and  then  the  girls  had  to  run.  But  nobody  is  to 
know  for  a  month  yet;  we  mean  to  be  married  at  Easter. 
That  last  point  we  fixed  up  just  now  in  the  library.  You  see 
what  a  lot  of  things  can  happen  right  here  in  dear  old  Mont- 
gomery within  twenty-four  hours." 

He  waited  for  one  of  her  characteristic  Philesque  outbursts 
—  one  of  the  tumultuous  mussings  with  which  she  celebrated 
her  happy  surprises.  Nothing  was  needed  to  complete  his 
joy  but  Phil's  approval,  about  which  he  had  never  had  the 


254  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

slightest  question.  In  his  last  talk  with  Nan  on  Christmas 
Eve  they  had  discussed  Phil  and  the  effect  of  their  marriage 
upon  her  rather  more  than  upon  themselves.  And  he  had 
now  exhausted  himself  upon  the  announcement ;  there  was 
nothing  more  that  he  could  say.  Phil's  hands  were  cold  in 
his,  and  with  an  almost  imperceptible  pressure  she  was 
thrusting  him  away  from  her.  Two  great  tears  welled  in  her 
eyes  and  stole  down  her  cheeks. 

"Why,  Phil!  I  thought  you  —  you  of  all  people  in  the 
world—" 

"Mamma  has  come  back!"  said  Phil  colorlessly;  and  re- 
peated, "mamma  has  come  back.  She  is  at  Uncle  Amy's, 
and  I  have  seen  her." 

There  was  silence  for  a  little  space  while  he  stared  at 
her.  Their  eyes  met  in  a  long  gaze.  He  grew  suddenly  white 
and  she  felt  the  trembling  of  his  hands. 

"O  God,  no!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "You  don't  mean  that, 
Phil.  This  is  a  joke  —  not  here;  not  in  Montgomery!  She 
would  never  do  that.  Come,  you  must  n't  trifle  with  me ; 
it's  —  it's  too  horrible." 

His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper  with  his  last  word.  The  word 
and  his  tone  in  uttering  it  had  not  expressed  the  full  sense 
of  the  horror  that  was  in  his  face. 

"  It  is  true,  daddy,"  she  said  softly,  kindly.  "  I  have  seen 
her;  I  have  talked  with  her." 

"You  saw  her  at  Amzi's?"  he  asked  dully. 

"Yes;  she  came  last  night.  I  did  n't  know  it  until  I  got  to 
the  house  this  morning.  They  were  all  there,  and  when  I 
went  in  they  tried  to  send  me  off;  they  thought  I  oughtn't 
to  see  her." 

"There  was  a  scene,  then;  they  were  ugly  about  it?" 

"They  tried  to  be;  but  it  did  n't  go!" 

He  noted  the  faltering  triumph  of  her  tone  and  looked  at 
her  more  closely. 

"They  wanted  her  to  go  and  she  held  her  ground  against 
them?" 

"I  held  it  with  her,"  said  Phil. 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  255 

"You  did  n't  think  she  should  go;  was  that  it,  Phil?" 

"I  did  n't  think  she  should  be  treated  like  a  dog!" 

Phil  drew  away,  with  her  head  held  high,  her  fists  tightly 
clenched.  Kirkwood  walked  slowly  across  the  room  thrice 
while  she  stood  immovable.  He  recalled  her  presence  in  a 
moment  and  remarked  absently :  — 

"  Amzi  should  have  told  me.  It  was  n't  fair  for  him  to 
do  this.  If  I  had  known  last  night  that  she  was  here  — " 

He  broke  off  with  a  groan.  The  resigned,  indifferent  air 
he  had  lately  flung  off  possessed  him  again,  and  seeing  it  the 
pity  stole  back  into  her  heart.  She  moved  about,  avoiding 
him,  fearful  of  meeting  again  that  hurt,  wounded  look  in  his 
eyes.  The  short  day  was  drawing  to  an  end,  and  the  shadows 
deepened.  He  was  mechanically  lighting  his  pipe,  and  she 
crouched  in  her  favorite  seat  by  the  fire. 

"It's  a  little  tough,  Phil,"  he  said  finally  with  a  revival 
of  courage,  pausing  in  his  slow,  aimless  wandering  through 
the  rooms.  "It's  a  little  tough  after  so  long,  and  now.'1 

She  could  not  controvert  this;  she  merely  waited  to  see 
what  further  he  had  to  say.  He  paused  presently,  his  arm 
on  the  mantel-shelf,  his  fingers  nervously  playing  with  his 
pipe. 

"What  is  she  like,  Phil?" 

"Oh,  she  is  lovely!  She  is  the  most  charming  woman  that 
ever  lived!" 

"You  liked  her,  then;  she  was  nice  to  you?" 

"She  is  dear  and  sweet  and  wonderful!  Oh,  I  didn't 
know  she  would  be  like  that!" 

His  eyes  opened  and  shut  quickly.  There  was  an  implied 
accusation  against  him  in  the  fervor  of  her  admiration  for 
the  wife  who  had  deserted  him.  He  groped  for  something 
in  self -justification  with  which  to  confute  Lois  Montgom- 
ery's daughter. 

"You  found  her  what  you  would  like  your  mother  to  be, 
—  you  did  n't  think  her  hard  or  cruel?" 

"No." 

"You  would  n't  have  thought  her  a  woman  who  would 


256  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

desert  a  husband  and  a  helpless  baby  and  run  away  with 
another  man?" 

There  was  silence  in  the  room.  He  had  mercilessly  con- 
densed the  case  against  Lois  Montgomery,  reducing  it  to  its 
harshest  terms  for  Phil's  contemplation.  It  was  in  Phil's 
mind  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  those  things ;  that  the 
woman  against  whose  cheek  she  had  laid  her  own  was  not 
Thomas  Kirkwood's  recreant  wife,  but  another  and  very 
different  person.  She  did  not  know  how  to  express  this;  it 
seemed  preposterous  to  insist  to  her  father  that  his  former 
wife  was  not  the  same  woman  that  she  had  held  speech 
with  that  day. 

"I  can't  talk  about  her  in  that  way,  daddy.  I  can't  tell 
you  just  how  I  feel.  But  it  seemed  so  wonderful,  when  I  went 
into  the  house,  and  those  horrible  creatures  were  circling 
round  her  like  wolves,  that  we  understood  each  other,  she 
and  I,  without  a  word  being  said!  And  I  hated  them  all, 
except  dear  old  Amy.  They  all  went  home  and  Amy  went 
off  and  left  us  alone,  and  we  talked  just  as  though  we  had 
been  old  friends." 

She  ceased  as  though  to  attempt  to  describe  it  would  be 
profanation. 

"What  did  she  say  —  about  me?"  he  asked  blindly. 

"Oh,  she  did  n't  talk  about  you  at  all!  It  was  n't  that 
kind  of  talk  —  not  about  what  she  had  done  —  not  even 
about  what  she  meant  to  do!  She  is  so  young!  She  is  just 
like  a  girl!  And  she  speaks  so  charmingly,  with  the  love- 
liest voice.  It 's  like  the  way  the  water  ripples  round  the  big 
boulders  at  The  Run." 

"She  had  n't  anything  to  say  about  her  going  off  ?  I  don't 
quite  believe  you  mean  that,  Phil." 

"  That 's  exactly  the  truth,  daddy  " ;  and  there  was  grieved 
surprise  in  her  tone.  "Why,  she  is  n't  like  that ;  she  would  n't 
ever  say  anything  to  hurt  any  one.  I  have  n't  words  to  tell 
you  about  her,  because  there  was  never  any  one  like  her.  She 
is  all  sunniness  and  sweetness.  And  she 's  the  most  amusing 
person  I  ever  saw,  — ever  so  droll  and  funny!" 


PHIL'S  PERPLEXITIES  257 

Phil's  refusal  or  inability  to  see  her  mother  in  robes  of  sin 
irritated  Kirkwood.  For  Phil  to  call  her  an  amusing  person 
was  sheer  childish  naivete.  Phil  was  the  victim  of  an  infatu- 
ation which  he  could  understand  now  that  his  wife  began 
to  live  again  in  his  imagination.  He  had  read  in  books  that 
the  maternal  instinct  will  assert  itself  after  long  separations, 
where  mother  and  child  are  without  other  clue  than  that  of 
the  mysterious  filial  and  maternal  tie  to  guide  them ;  but  his 
practical  sense  rejected  the  idea.  If  he  had  been  warned  of 
Lois's  unaccountable  return,  he  might  have  fortified  Phil 
against  her  charms,  but  now  it  was  too  late.  Lois  was 
Phil's  mother.  Shocked  as  he  was  by  this  termination  of  his 
Christmas-Day  happiness,  his  nature  revolted  against  any 
attempt  to  shatter  Phil's  new  idol.  The  fact  that  Lois  had 
sinned  as  much  against  Phil  as  against  himself  was  not  some- 
thing that  he  could  urge  now  that  Phil  had  taken  her  stand. 
The  thought  of  Lois  brought  before  him  not  only  the  un- 
happy past,  but  she  seemed,  with  the  cruelest  calculation,  to 
have  planted  herself  in  the  path  of  his  happy  future. 

He  was  intent  upon  a  situation  that  called  for  immediate 
handling.  He  tried  to  bring  the  scattered  dim  stars  in  this 
new  firmament  to  focus.  He  might  go  to  Nan  and  endeavor 
to  minimize  the  effects  of  Lois's  return,  urging  that  if  she 
wished  to  spend  the  rest  of  her  life  in  Montgomery  it  was 
her  affair,  and  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  her  former 
husband  or  the  woman  he  meant  to  marry.  This  was  a 
sane,  reasonable  view  of  the  situation;  but  its  sanity  and 
reasonableness  were  not  likely  to  impress  Nan  Bartlett.  Such 
an  event  as  the  sudden  return  of  Lois  would  pass  into  local 
history  as  a  great  sensation.  Jack  Helton's  reappearance 
only  a  few  weeks  earlier  had  caused  his  fellow-townsmen  to 
attack  the  old  scandal  with  the  avidity  of  a  dog  unearth- 
ing a  neglected  bone;  and  the  return  of  the  woman  in  the 
case  could  hardly  fail  to  prove  far  more  provocative  of 
gossip.  If  Lois  persisted  in  remaining  in  Montgomery,  it 
was  wholly  unlikely  that  Nan  would  ever  marry  him ;  nor 
could  he  with  any  delicacy  insist  upon  her  doing  so.  They 


258  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

might  marry  and  move  to  Indianapolis,  thereby  escaping 
the  discomforts  of  the  smaller  town's  criticism;  and  this 
was  made  possible  by  his  brightening  prospects.  At  any 
rate,  it  was  only  fair  to  go  to  Nan  at  once  and  lay  the 
matter  before  her.  Even  now  the  news  might  have  reached 
her;  news  spreads  quickly  in  the  world's  compact  Mont- 
gomerys. 

Phil  aroused  herself  as  she  heard  him  fumbling  for  his 
coat  at  the  hall-rack.  She  found  a  match  and  lighted  the  gas. 

"Going  out,  daddy?"  she  asked  in  something  like  her 
usual  tone. 

He  looked  at  her  vaguely  as  he  drew  on  his  coat,  as  though 
trying  to  understand  what  she  had  said. 

"Well,  you'll  be  back  for  supper.  There'll  be  the  usual 
holiday-cold-turkey  supper,  daddy." 

"Yes,  Phil;  I'll  be  back  after  while.  I'm  going  for  a 
tramp." 

But  she  knew  that  he  had  gone  to  see  Nan. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

.       AMZI   IS   FLABBERGASTED 

STRUBY'S  drug-store  did  a  large  business  in  hot  drinks  in 
the  week  following  Christmas,  as  citizens  and  citizenesses 
met  to  discuss  the  return  of  Lois  Montgomery.  The  annual 
choir-row  in  Center  Church  caused  scarcely  a  ripple;  the 
county  poorhouse  burned  to  the  ground,  and  nobody  cared 
particularly ;  an  august  professor  in  the  college  was  laid  low 
with  whooping-cough,  and  even  this  calamity  failed  to  tickle 
the  community  as  it  would  have  done  in  ordinary  circum- 
stances. 

Wonder  and  mystery  were  in  the  air  of  Main  Street. 
Persons  who  had  no  money  in  Montgomery's  Bank,  and 
whom  the  liveliest  imagination  could  not  dramatize  as  bor- 
rowers from  that  institution,  dropped  in  casually  on  ficti- 
tious errands,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  or  hearing  something. 
Housewives  who  lived  beyond  the  college,  or  over  in  the  new 
bungalow  addition  across  the  Monon  tracks,  who  had  no 
business  whatever  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  old  Mont- 
gomery place,  made  flimsy  excuses  for  visiting  that  region 
in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  a  certain  lady  who,  after 
a  long  absence,  had  reappeared  in  town  with  bewildering  sud- 
denness. What  Amzi  had  said  to  his  sisters  Kate,  Josie,  and 
Fanny  and  what  they  had  said  to  him,  and  what  Mrs.  Lois 
Montgomery  Holton  had  said  to  them  all  afforded  an  ample 
field  for  comment  where  facts  were  known ;  and  where  there 
were  no  facts,  speculation  and  invention  rioted  outrageously. 
Had  Tom  Kirkwood  seen  his  former  wife?  Would  Phil  break 
with  her  father  and  go  to  live  at  Amzi's  with  her  mother? 
Was  it  true  that  Lois  had  come  back  to  Indiana  in  the  hope 
of  effecting  a  reconciliation  with  Jack  Holton,  of  whom 


260  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

unpleasant  reports  were  now  reaching  Montgomery  from  the 
state  capital?  An  intelligent  community  possessed  of  a 
healthy  curiosity  must  be  pardoned  for  polishing  its  spec- 
tacles when  a  drama  so  exciting  and  presenting  so  many 
characters  is  being  disclosed  upon  its  stage. 

It  was  said  that  Mrs.  Holton  emerged  from  Amzi's  house 
daily  to  take  the  air.  She  had  been  observed  by  credible 
witnesses  at  the  stamp  window  of  the  post-office;  again,  she 
had  bought  violets  at  the  florist's ;  she  had  been  seen  walk- 
ing across  the  Madison  campus.  The  attendants  in  the 
new  Carnegie  library  had  been  thrilled  by  a  visit  from  a 
strange  lady  who  could  have  been  none  other  than  Mrs. 
Holton. 

At  four  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  January  2,  Mrs.  Holton 
drank  a  cup  of  bouillon  at  Struby's  counter,  informed  the 
white- jacketed  attendant  that  it  was  excellent,  and  crossed 
Main  Street  to  Montgomery's  Bank  under  the  admiring 
eyes  of  a  dozen  young  collegians  who  happened  to  be  loafing 
in  the  drug-store.  Amzi  escorted  his  sister  at  once  to  his 
private  room  at  the  rear,  poked  the  fire,  buttoned  his  coat 
and  sat  down. 

"Well,  Lois,  how  goes  it?" 

His  question  was  the  one  he  habitually  asked  his  custom- 
ers, and  he  had  no  idea  that  anything  of  importance  had 
happened  to  his  sister  since  he  left  her  at  one  o'clock. 

"The  air  in  the  counting-room  is  bad,  Amzi;  you  ought 
to  put  in  ventilators.  A  little  fresh  air  would  increase  the 
efficiency  of  the  clerks  one  hundred  per  cent,"  she  remarked, 
tossing  her  muff  and  a  package  on  the  table.  It  was  a  solid 
package  that  fell  with  a  bang. 

"Then  they'd  want  more  pay.  You've  got  another  guess 
coming." 

"No.  You'd  cut  down  their  wages  because  they  worked 
less  time." 

He  rubbed  his  head  and  chuckled.  It  was  plainly  written 
on  his  face  that  he  was  immensely  fond  of  her,  that  her 
presence  in  the  dim,  dingy  old  room  gave  him  pleasure. 


AMZI  IS  FLABBERGASTED  261 

He  clasped  his  hands  behind  his  head  to  emphasize  his  com- 
fort. 

"I  passed  Center  Church  on  my  way  down  just  as  my 
perfectly  good  sisters  three  were  entering  the  side  door.  The 
Presbyterians  have  n't  set  up  a  confessional,  have  they?" 

"Lemme  see.  I  guess  this  is  the  afternoon  they  sew  for 
the  heathen.  No.  This  is  Tuesday.  Pastor's  Aid  Society. 
Caught  'em  in  the  act,  did  you?" 

"  I  suppose  I  did.  They  bowed  and  I  bowed.  When  I  got 
to  the  corner  I  turned  round  to  take  a  look  at  the  steeple 
and  they  were  inspecting  my  clothes.  They  're  rather  funny 
human  beings,  those  sisters  of  ours.  How  do  you  suppose 
they  ever  happened  anyhow?  How  do  you  suppose  they 
came  to  be  so  good  and  you  and  I  so  naughty?  I  men- 
tion your  naughtiness,  Amzi,  just  to  keep  from  being  so 
lonesome." 

"Thunder!"  he  puffed,  evidently  rejoicing  in  the  wicked- 
ness she  conferred  upon  him. 

"I  came  to  talk  business  a  little,  Amzi.  Did  n't  want  to 
do  it  at  the  house.  In  fact,  I  'm  out  of  money ;  broke ;  busted. 
I  bought  a  cup  of  soup  at  the  drug-store  over  the  way  and 
left  my  last  dime  on  the  counter." 

He  rubbed  his  pink  pate  and  cleared  his  throat.  He  was  not 
surprised ;  he  had  expected  her  to  be  broke.  Several  times  in 
the  week  that  had  passed  since  her  return,  he  had  thought  of 
broaching  the  subject  of  money,  but  had  refrained.  Lois 
could  have  anything  he  had;  that  was  his  feeling  about  it; 
and  no  doubt  when  she  needed  money  she  would  ask  for  it. 
His  other  sisters  had  never  hesitated. 

"Just  say  how  much,  Lois." 

His  tone  was  reassuring.  The  others  had  bled  him  for 
years;  he  had  kept  an  account  of  his  "advances,"  as  they 
called  them,  in  a  pass-book,  and  within  a  few  days  he  had 
credited  Lois  with  an  amount  equal  to  the  total  of  these 
sums.  It  was  approximately  this  amount  that  he  had  tried 
to  bestow  upon  Phil  the  previous  fall  when  that  unreason- 
able young  person  had  scorned  it. 


262  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Lois  had  not  answered  him.  Her  face  wore  a  look  of 
abstraction  and  she  compressed  her  lips  poutingly.  He  had 
found  her  increasingly  interesting  and  amusing  as  the  days 
passed.  The  subjects  she  discussed  in  their  long  evenings 
together  were  as  various  as  her  costumes.  She  was  always 
cheery,  always  a  delight  to  his  admiring  eyes.  Now  that 
she  needed  money  she  would  be  sure  to  ask  for  it  in  her 
own  charming  fashion. 

"Speak  up;  don't  be  afraid.  The  sooner  we  fix  it  the 
quicker  we  can  forget  it,"  he  added  kindly. 

"I  was  just  wondering  how  to  divide  things  around  a 
little,"  she  replied. 

"Divide  how?   Among  your  creditors?" 

"Creditors?  Bless  your  silly  head,  Amzi,  I  have  n't  any 
creditors!" 

"I  thought  you  said  you  were  broke." 

"Oh,  I  believe  I  did,"  she  replied,  still  only  half-attentive 
to  what  he  said,  and  apparently  not  particularly  interested 
in  explaining  herself.  She  reached  for  a  pad  and  made  rapid 
calculations.  He  lighted  a  cigar  and  watched  her  gloved 
hand  dancing  over  the  paper.  The  package  she  had  tossed 
on  the  table  was  much  bewaxed  and  sealed.  "When  I  said 
I  was  broke,  I  meant  that  I  had  n't  any  money  in  my  pocket. 
I  want  to  open  an  account  here  so  I  can  cash  a  check.  I 
suppose  you  have  n't  any  prejudices  against  accepting  small 
deposits?" 

"No  prejudices  exactly,  Lois;  but  it's  so  long  since  any 
member  of  the  family  came  into  this  bank  without  wanting 
to  make  a  touch  that  I'm  likely  to  drop  dead." 

She  laughed,  drew  out  her  purse,  and  extracted  three 
closely  folded  slips  of  crisp  paper,  took  up  a  pen  and 
scratched  her  name  across  the  back  of  each. 

"There,"  she  said,  "consider  these  on  deposit  and  give  me 
a  check-book." 

He  ran  the  drafts  through  his  fingers,  reading  the  amounts, 
and  from  force  of  habit  compared  the  indorsement  with  the 
name  on  the  face.  He  smoothed  them  out  on  the  table  and 


AMZI  IS  FLABBERGASTED  263 

laid  a  weight  on  them.  He  looked  at  the  end  of  his  cigar, 
then  at  her.  Of  the  three  bills  of  exchange  on  New  York, 
one  was  for  ten  thousand  dollars,  issued  by  a  Seattle  bank; 
another  was  for  fifteen  thousand,  issued  by  a  San  Francisco 
house,  and  the  third  was  a  certified  check  for  seven  thousand 
and  some  odd  dollars  and  cents.  Something  over  thirty-two 
thousand  dollars! 

He  unconsciously  adopted  with  her  something  of  his  way 
with  Phil.  He  would  not  express  surprise  at  the  magnitude 
of  the  sum  she  had  so  indifferently  fished  out  of  her  purse, 
but  rather  treat  the  matter  as  though  he  had  been  prepared 
for  it.  The  joke  of  it  —  that  Lois  should  have  come  back 
with  money,  when  her  sisters  certainly,  and  the  rest  of  the 
community  probably,  assumed  that  her  return  to  Montgom- 
ery meant  nothing  more  or  less  than  the  collapse  of  her 
fortunes  —  this  was  a  joke  so  delicious,  so  stupendous,  that 
his  enjoyment  of  it  dulled  the  edge  of  his  curiosity  as  to  the 
history  the  fact  concealed.  She  had  n't  even  taken  off  her 
gloves  to  write  her  name  on  the  drafts !  There  were  deposi- 
tors who  had  shown  more  emotion  over  confiding  one  hun- 
dred dollars  to  his  care  than  she  had  displayed  in  writing  her 
name  on  the  books  as  his  largest  individual  depositor.  He 
wanted  to  giggle;  it  was  the  funniest  thing  that  had  ever 
happened.  He  remarked  casually,  — 

"Got  a  gold  mine,  Lois?" 

He  was  so  full  of  the  joy  of  it  that  he  gasped  at  her 
reply. 

"How  did  you  know?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"I  did  n't." 

"I  thought  not.  Nobody  knows.  And  nobody  need 
know.  Just  between  ourselves  —  all  this." 

He  nodded.  She  was  an  amazing  creature,  this  sister! 
The  joke  grew.  He  hoped  she  would  delay  and  prolong  her 
revelations,  that  he  might  miss  nothing  of  their  humor. 

"Nevada,"  she  remarked  sententiously. 

"Ground  floor?" 

"  Something  like  that." 


264  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

She  pushed  toward  him  the  pad  with  her  calculations. 
They  read  thus :  — 

Seattle  R.  E.  175,000  (about) 

Broken  Axe  (Gov't  3's)  250,000 

A.  T.  &  S.  F.  bonds  20,000 

Phoenix  Lumber  75.OOO 

Other  securities  100,000  (maybe) 

His  jaw  fell  and  he  gulped  when  he  tried  to  speak.  Even 
Amzi  could  not  joke  about  half  a  million  dollars. 

"Thunder!   You  must  be  fooling,  Lois." 

"  I  may  be  fooled  about  some  of  that  stuff,  but  those  fig- 
ures are  supposed  to  be  conservative  by  people  who  ought  to 
know." 

"Lord !  you  're  a  rich  woman,  Lois,"  he  remarked  with  awe. 
"It's  flabbergasting!" 

"Oh,  I  have  n't  done  so  badly.  You'd  probably  like  to 
know  how  it  came  about,  and  I  might  as  well  tell  you  the 
whole  story.  Jack  was  an  awful  fizzle  —  absolutely  no  good. 
I  saw  that  early  in  the  game,  and  I  knew  where  I  'd  bring  up 
if  I  did  n't  look  out  for  myself.  He  began  nibbling  like  a 
hungry  rat  at  my  share  of  father's  estate  as  soon  as  you  sent 
it  to  me.  I  backed  him  in  half  a  dozen  things  he  wanted  to  go 
into.  He  had  n't  the  business  sense  of  a  baby,  and  I  began 
to  see  that  I  was  going  to  bump  my  head  good  and  hard  if 
I  did  n't  look  sharp.  He  began  to  cheer  himself  during  his 
failures  by  getting  drunk,  which  was  n't  exactly  pretty.  He 
went  his  way  and  I  went  mine,  and  as  he  lied  to  me  about 
everything  I  began  to  lie  to  him  about  my  money.  I  made 
some  friends,  and  one  of  these  happened  to  be  the  wife  of  a 
banker  with  brains.  Through  him  I  made  some  small  turns 
in  real  estate,  covering  them  up  so  Jack  would  n't  know.  The 
fifth  year  after  I  left  here  I  made  twenty  thousand  dollars  in 
one  turn.  Then  I  grub-staked  two  young  fellows  who  wanted 
to  try  their  luck  in  Nevada  —  nice  college  boys,  all  on  the 
square.  I  invested  about  two  thousand  dollars  in  those 
youngsters,  and  as  a  result  got  into  Broken  Axe.  It  was  so 
good  that  it  scared  me,  and  I  sold  out  for  the  two  hundred 


AMZI  IS  FLABBERGASTED  265 

and  fifty  thousand  you  see  on  the  slip  there,  and  bought 
Government  bonds  with  it.  My  banker  covered  all  these 
things  up  for  me  as  long  as  I  had  Jack  on  my  hands.  When 
he  became  intolerable  I  got  rid  of  him,  legally,  for  fear  he'd 
cause  trouble  if  he  found  what  I 'd  been  doing.  I'm  a  little 
tired  of  running  my  own  business  now  and  mean  to  dump 
it  off  on  you  if  you  don't  mind.  I  left  my  papers  in  a  safety 
vault  in  Chicago,  but  here's  my  Phoenix  Lumber  and  a 
jumble  of  miscellaneous  junk  I  want  to  send  West  to  be 
sold  so  I  can  put  it  into  things  around  here.  I  'm  not  going 
back  there  any  more." 

"Lord ! "  he  ejaculated,  rubbing  his  head.  "  You  made  all 
that  money  yourself?" 

"Sheer  luck,  mostly.  But  it  is  n't  so  bad,  take  it  all  round. 
By  the  way,  in  that  junk  there  are  some  Sycamore  Traction 
bonds  I  took  off  the  bank's  hands  out  there.  They  were  car- 
rying them  as  collateral  for  a  man  Sam  Holton  stung  on  one 
of  his  Western  trips.  He'd  planted  all  he  could  in  New 
York  and  had  to  try  a  new  field.  The  bank  foreclosed  on 
the  bonds  and  I  bought  twenty  of  them  at  sixty-five.  I  sup- 
pose from  what  I  hear  that  they  're  not  good  for  much  but 
kindling." 

"You  got  'em  at  sixty- five,  Lois?" 

"The  bank  only  lent  on  them  at  that,  and  there  was  no 
market  for  them  out  there.  What's  going  to  become  of  that 
road?" 

Amzi  glanced  toward  the  empty  counting-room  where  a 
single  clerk  was  sealing  the  mail. 

"Tom's  trying  to  save  it.  And  I've  been  buying  those 
things  myself  at  seventy." 

"You  think  it's  a  good  buy  at  that?  Going  to  clean  up 
something  out  of  it?" 

Amzi  flushed,  and  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat. 

"  No.  That 's  not  just  the  way  of  it.  I  don't  want  to  make 
any  money  out  of  it;  neither  does  Tom.  We're  trying  to 
protect  the  honest  people  around  here  at  home  who  put  their 
money  into  that  scheme.  Sam  and  Bill  Holton  made  a  big 


266  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

play  for  small  investors,  and  a  lot  of  people  put  their  savings 
into  it  —  the  kind  o'  folks  who  scrimp  to  save  a  dollar  a 
week.  Tom 's  trying  to  sift  out  the  truth  about  the  building 
of  the  line,  and  if  he  can  force  the  surrender  of  the  con- 
struction company's  graft  over  and  above  the  fair  cost  of 
the  road,  Sycamore  will  be  all  right.  Your  bonds  are  good,  I 
think.  People  have  been  up  in  the  air  over  the  rumors,  and 
anxious  to  sell  at  any  price.  What  I  'm  doing,  Lois,  as  far  as 
I'm  able  - 

He  fidgeted  uneasily,  seemingly  reluctant  to  disclose  just 
what  he  was  doing. 

"Well,"  she  said  impatiently. 

"I'm  picking  up  all  I  can  from  these  little  fellows  — 
farmers,  widows,  and  so  on,  and  if  Tom  works  out  his  scheme 
and  the  bonds  are  good,  I  'm  going  to  let  them  have  them 
back.  That's  all,"  he  ended  shamefacedly;  and  added,  as 
though  such  a  piece  of  quixotism  required  justification  to  a 
woman  who  had  rolled  up  a  fortune  and  was  therefore  likely 
to  be  critical  of  business  methods,  "  I  suppose  I  'd  be  entitled 
to  interest." 

"I  suppose  you  would,  you  gay  Napoleon  of  finance!" 
She  looked  at  him  musingly  with  good  humor  and  affection 
in  her  fine  eyes. 

"I  sorto'  like  this  old  town,  Lois,  and  I-don't  want  any 
harm  to  come  to  the  folks  —  particularly  these  little  fellows 
that  don't  know  how  to  take  care  of  themselves." 

"Is  Tom  animated  by  the  same  philanthropic  motives, 
or  is  he  going  to  get  a  fee  for  his  work?" 

"Oh,  he'll  get  paid  all  right.   It's  different  with  Tom." 

"I  suppose  so.  He  ought  to  have  a  good  fee  if  he  can 
straighten  out  that  tangle.  But,  Amzi  —  She  hesitated 
a  moment,  then  began  again  more  deliberately.  " If  you're 
getting  more  of  those  bonds  than  you  want,  you  might  buy 
some  with  my  money  —  I  mean  with  a  view  to  taking  care 
of  these  home  investors  who  are  in  a  panic  about  Sycamore. 
I  suppose  I  owe  something  to  the  community  myself  — 
after—" 


AMZI  IS  FLABBERGASTED  267 

She  gave  him  her  quick,  radiant  smile. 

He  nodded  gravely. 

"All  right,  Lois.  I'll  remember  that.  And  I'll  tell  you 
something  else,  now  that  we're  on  business  matters.  The 
First  National  Bank  over  the  way  there  is  built  up  in  the  air 
too  high;  it's  got  all  the  weaknesses  of  the  Hoi  ton  family  - 
showy  without  any  real  bottom  to  it.  Some  of  their  stock 
has  always  been  owned  around  through  the  state — quite  a 
bunch  of  it  —  and  Bill  has  had  to  sell  part  of  his  own  hold- 
ings lately ;  he 's  got  only  a  scant  majority.  I  've  been  picking 
up  a  little  myself,  on  the  quiet.  After  Tom  gets  through  with 
the  Holtons,  I  doubt  if  Bill 's  going  to  be  able  to  hold  on.  I 
know  his  line  of  customers ;  I  guess  I  could  tell  you  about 
every  piece  of  paper  he's  got.  It's  a  poor  line,  wobbly  and 
uncertain.  There  was  a  new  examiner  here  not  long  ago,  and 
he  stayed  in  town  two  or  three  days  when  he  usually  cleans 
up  in  a  day.  Banking  is  a  business,  Lois,  not  a  pastime,  and 
Bill  is  n't  a  banker;  he 's  a  promoter.  Do  you  get  the  idea?  " 

"  I  think  I  see  the  point,  but  if  his  bank's  going  to  smash, 
why  don't  you  keep  away  from  it?  There 's  a  double  liability 
on  national  bank  stock,  is  n't  there?  Seems  to  me  that's  the 
reason  I  never  bought  any." 

"Right,  Lois;  but  I  don't  intend  the  First  shall  bust.  It 
won't  do  me  or  my  bank  or  the  town  any  good  to  have  it 
go  to  smash.  A  town  of  the  size  of  this  don't  live  down  a  bank 
failure  in  one  generation.  It  soaks  clear  in.  I  've  got  enough 
now  to  assert  my  rights  as  a  stockholder,  only  I  'm  keeping 
under  cover;  there's  no  use  in  screaming  in  the  newspapers. 
I  have  n't  anything  against  Bill  Holton,  and  if  he  pulls 
through,  all  right ;  but  if  he  can't  —  well,  I  've  never  wanted 
to  nationalize  this  bank,  but  that  would  be  one  way  of 
doing  it." 

"You  seem  to  be  full  of  large  thoughts,  brother.  You 
may  play  with  my  money  all  you  like  in  your  charitable 
games,  with  a  few  reservations.  I  like  to  eat  and  I  don't  want 
to  spend  my  old  age  in  the  poorhouse.  There 's  cash  enough 
here  to  run  me  for  some  time  and  you  can  use  half  of  that 


268  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

in  any  way  you  like.  I'll  take  any  chance  you  do,  and 
you'll  find  I  won't  cry  if  the  boiler  bursts.  My  Seattle  real 
estate  is  all  right  —  and  I  mean  to  hold  fast  to  it.  Now  I 
want  to  do  something  for  Phil ;  I  want  to  make  sure  she 
never  comes  to  want.  That's  only  right,  you  know." 

She  waited  for  his  affirmation. 

"You  ought  to  do  it,  Lois,"  he  said.  "I  mean  to  do  the 
right  thing  by  her  myself.  If  I  should  die  to-night,  Phil 
would  be  taken  care  of." 

"That's  like  you,  Amzi,  but  it  isn't  necessary.  I  want 
to  set  aside  one  hundred  thousand  for  Phil.  I  'd  like  to  make 
a  trust  fund  of  it,  and  let  her  have  the  income  from  now  on, 
and  turn  over  the  principal  when  she's  thirty,  say.  How 
does  that  strike  you?" 

"It's  splendid,  Lois.    By  George,  it's  grand!" 

He  blew  his  nose  violently  and  wiped  his  eyes.  And  then 
his  humor  was  touched  again.  Phil,  the  long-unmothered, 
the  Main  Street  romp,  the  despair  of  sighing  aunts,  com- 
ing in  for  a  hundred  thousand  dollars !  And  from  the  mother 
whom  those  intolerant,  snobbish  sisters  had  execrated.  He 
was  grateful  that  he  had  lived  to  see  this  day. 

"You've  been  fine  to  Phil,  and  I  appreciate  it,  Amzi. 
She 's  told  me  all  about  it ;  the  money  you  offered  her  and 
all  that ;  and  how  you  ' ve  stood  by  her.  Those  dear  sisters 
of  mine  have  undoubtedly  worked  me  hard  as  an  awful 
example.  If  they  had  n't  painted  me  so  black,  the  dear 
beautiful  child  would  n't  have  warmed  to  me  as  she  has." 

"If  the  girls  knew  you  had  all  that  money,  Lois,  it  would 
brace  'em  up  a  good  deal.  It's  a  funny  thing  about  this 
funny  old  world,  how  the  scarletest  sins  fade  away  into  pale 
pink  at  the  jingle  of  money." 

This  bit  of  philosophy  seemed  not  to  interest  her ;  she  was 
thinking  of  something  else,  humming  softly.  Her  sins  were 
evidently  so  little  in  her  mind  that  she  paid  no  heed  to  his 
remark  or  the  confusion  that  covered  him  when  he  real- 
ized that  he  had  been  guilty  of  a  tactless  and  ungracious 
speech. 


AMZI  IS  FLABBERGASTED  269 

"Mrs.  King  called  on  me  this  afternoon,  the  dear  old  soul." 

"You  don't  say!" 

"  I  do,  indeed.  She  put  on  her  best  clothes  and  drove  up 
in  the  old  family  chariot.  She  has  n't  changed  a  bit." 

Amzi  sat  pigeon-toed.  Mrs.  John  Newman  King,  whose 
husband  had  been  United  States  Senator  and  who  still  paid 
an  annual  visit  to  Washington,  where  the  newspapers  in- 
terviewed her  as  to  her  recollections  of  Lincoln,  was  given 
to  frank,  blunt  speech  as  Amzi  well  knew.  It  was  wholly  pos- 
sible that  she  had  called  on  Lois  to  administer  a  gratuitous 
chastisement,  and  if  she  had  done  so,  all  Montgomery  would 
know  of  it. 

"Don't  worry!  She  was  as  nice  as  pie.  Josie  had  kindly 
gone  to  see  her  to  tell  her  the  '  family  '  had  warned  me  away ; 
the  'family'  wanted  her  to  know,  you  know.  Did  n't  want 
an  old  and  valued  friend  like  the  widow  of  John  Newman 
King  to  think  the  good  members  of  the  House  of  Montgom- 
ery meant  to  overlook  my  wickedness.  Not  a  bit  of  it !  You 
can  hear  Josie  going  on.  She  evidently  laid  it  on  so  thick  it 
made  the  old  lady  hot.  When  she  came  in,  she  took  me  by 
both  hands  and  said,  'You  silly  little  fool,  so  you've  come 
back.'  Then  she  kissed  me.  And  I  cried,  being  a  silly  little 
fool,  just  as  she  said.  And  she  did  n't  say  another  word  about 
what  I  'd  done  or  had  n't  done,  but  began  talking  about  her 
trip  abroad  in  1872,  when  she  saw  it  all,  she  says  —  the  Nile 
and  everything.  She  swung  around  to  Phil  and  told  me  a  lot 
of  funny  stories  about  her.  She  talked  about  Tom  and  you 
before  she  left ;  said  she  'd  never  made  out  how  you  and  Tom 
meant  to  divide  up  the  Bartlett  girls;  seems  to  be  bent  on 
marrying  you  both  into  the  family." 

"Thunder!"  he  exploded.  This  unaccountable  sister  had 
the  most  amazing  way  of  setting  a  target  to  jingling  and  then 
calmly  walking  off.  The  thought  of  her  husband's  marrying 
again  evidently  gave  her  no  concern  whatever. 

"Not  nice  of  you  to  be  keeping  your  own  prospects  a 
dark  secret  when  I  'm  living  under  the  same  roof  with  you. 
Out  with  it." 


27°  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Lois." 

"  But  why  don't  you  be  a  good  brother  and  'fess  up?  As 
I  remember  they  're  both  nice  women  —  quite  charming  and 
fine.  I  should  think  you  'd  take  your  pick  first,  and  then  let 
Tom  have  what's  left.  You  deserve  well  of  the  world,  and 
time  flies.  Don't  you  let  my  coming  back  here  interfere  with 
your  plans.  I  'm  not  in  your  way.  If  you  think  I  'm  back  on 
your  hands,  and  that  you  can't  bring  home  your  bonny  bride 
because  I  'm  in  your  house,  you  're  dead  wrong.  You  ought 
to  be  relieved."  She  ended  by  indicating  the  memorandum 
of  her  assets;  and  then  tore  it  into  bits  and  began  pushing 
them  into  a  little  pile  on  the  table. 

"It  must  be  Rose  —  the  musical  one.  Phil  has  told  me 
about  the  good  times  you  and  she  and  Tom  have  had  in 
Buckeye  Lane.  I  looked  all  over  the  house  for  your  flute  and 
wondered  what  had  become  of  it;  so  you  keep  it  there,  do 
you  —  you  absurd  brother !  Rose  plays  the  piano,  you  flute, 
and  Tom  saws  the  'cello,  and  Nan  and  Phil  are  the  audi- 
ence. By  the  way,  Mrs.  King  mentioned  a  book  Nan 
Bartlett  seems  to  be  responsible  for  —  '  The  Gray  Knight  of 
Picardy.'  Everybody  was  reading  it  on  the  train  when  I 
came  out,  but  I  did  n't  know  it  was  a  Montgomery  pro- 
duction. Another  Hoosier  author  for  the  hall  of  fame!  It 
comes  back  to  me  that  Nan  always  was  rather  different  — 
quiet  and  literary.  I  don't  doubt  that  she  would  be  a  splen- 
did woman  for  Tom  to  marry." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Amzi. 

"  Humph ! "  She  flung  the  scraps  of  paper  into  the  air  and 
watched  them  fall  about  him  in  a  brief  snowstorm.  She 
seemed  to  enjoy  his  discomfiture  at  the  mention  of  the  Bart- 
letts.  "Let's  not  be  silly,  you  dear,  delightful,  elusive 
brother!  If  you  want  to  marry,  go  ahead;  the  sooner  the 
better.  And  if  Tom  wants  to  try  again,  I  '11  wish  him  the 
best  luck  in  the  world  —  the  Lord  knows  I  ought  to !  I  sup- 
pose it's  Nan,  the  literary  one,  he 's  interested  in.  She 
writes  for  the  funny  papers ;  Phil  told  me  that ;  and  if  she 's 
done  a  book  that  people  read  on  trains,  she  '11  make  money 


AMZI  IS  FLABBERGASTED  271 

out  of  it.  And  Tom  's  literary;  I  always  had  an  idea  he'd  go 
in  for  writing  sometime." 

She  mused  a  moment  while  Amzi  mopped  his  head.  He 
found  it  difficult  to  dance  to  the  different  tunes  she  piped. 
He  would  have  given  his  body  to  be  burned  before  referring 
to  the  possibility  of  Tom's  marrying  again;  and  yet  Lois 
broached  the  subject  without  embarrassment.  Nothing,  in 
fact,  embarrassed  her.  He  knew  a  great  banker  in  Chicago 
who  made  a  point  of  never  allowing  any  papers  to  lie  on  his 
desk;  who  disposed  of  everything  as  it  came;  and  Lois  re- 
minded him  of  that  man.  There  was  no  unfinished  business 
on  her  table,  no  litter  of  memories  to  gather  dust!  He  not 
only  loved  her  as  a  sister,  but  her  personality  fascinated  him. 

"They've  been  good  to  Tom;  and  they've  been  perfectly 
bully  to  Phil.  They're  fine  women,"  he  said.  "But  as  to 
whether  Tom  means  to  marry,  I  don't  know;  I  honestly 
don't." 

"Tut !  You  need  n't  be  so  solemn  about  it.  I  intend  to  see 
that  you  get  married.  If  you  wait  much  longer,  some  widow 
will  come  along  and  marry  you  for  your  money  —  a  poor 
shrimp  of  a  woman  with  a  lot  of  anaemic  children  to  worry 
you  into  your  grave.  And  as  for  Tom,  the  quicker  the  better. 
I  wonder  — " 

He  waited  while  she  wondered.  She  had  an  exceedingly 
pretty  way  of  wondering. 

"I  wonder,"  she  finished  briskly,  as  though  chagrined 
that  she  hadn't  thought  of  it  before-  "I  wonder  if  I 
ought  n't  to  tell  Tom  so!" 

The  "Thunder!"  died  in  his  throat  at  the  appalling  sug- 
gestion. 

"O  Lord,  no!"  he  cried  hoarsely. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PHIL   MOVES   TO  AMZl's 

WHEN  he  had  recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  his  wife's 
return,  Kirkwood  adjusted  himself  to  the  new  order  of 
things  in  a  philosophic  temper.  Nan  had  withdrawn  abso- 
lutely her  day-old  promise  to  marry  him.  That  episode  in 
his  life  was  ended.  He  felt  the  nobility  of  her  attitude  with- 
out wholly  accepting  its  conclusions.  He  had  tried  to  per- 
suade her  that  the  'geography  of  the  matter  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it;  that  having  promised  to  marry  him  when  they 
believed  Lois  to  be  safely  out  of  the  way,  her  return  did 
not  affect  their  status  in  the  least.  This  was  the  flimsiest 
casuistry,  as  he  well  knew.  It  made  a  tremendous  difference 
where  Lois  was! 

"  I  have  to  go  away  to-morrow,  Phil,  and  I  'm  likely  to  be 
in  Indianapolis  much  of  the  time  until  spring.  I  can't  take 
you  with  me  very  well ;  a  hotel  is  no  place  for  you,  and  I  shall 
be  very  busy.  And  I  can't  leave  you  here  alone,  you  know." 

His  tone  was  kind;  he  always  meant  to  be  kind,  this  dear 
father  of  hers !  He  hurried  on  with  an  even  greater  thought- 
fulness  to  anticipate  a  solution  of  this  problem  which  had 
occurred  to  her  instantly,  but  which  she  lacked  the  courage 
to  suggest. 

"  I  saw  yoilr  Uncle  Amzi  to-day  and  had  a  long  talk  with 
him  about  you.  I  proposed  that  you  go  to  his  house  and  stay, 
at  least  until  I  get  through  my  work  with  the  Sycamore 
Company.  We  won't  make  any  definite  date  for  your  re- 
turn, for  the  reason  that  I  don't  just  know  when  I  '11  be  free 
to  settle  down  here  again.  Amzi  was  perfectly  agreeable  to 
the  idea  —  quite  splendid  about  it,  in  fact.  Your  mother,  it 
seems,  means  to  stay  with  him.  And  now  there's  this  fur- 
ther thing,  Phil.  You  won't  mind  my  going  into  it  a  little  bit, 


PHIL  MOVES  TO  AMZI'S  273 

once  and  for  all.  The  law  gave  you  to  me  long  ago,  but  apart 
from  that  I  suppose  I  have  a  certain  moral  claim  to  you. 
But  I  want  you  to  feel  free  to  do  as  you  like  where  your 
mother 's  concerned.  What  I  said  of  her  yesterday  I  'm 
sorry  for ;  I  should  n't  have  done  that  if  I  'd  been  myself. 
And  I  'm  not  making  it  necessary  for  you  to  make  a  choice 
between  us.  We're  old  comrades,  you  and  I,  Phil,  and 
there  can't  be  any  shadow  of  a  difference  between  us,  now 
or  ever.  It's  the  simplest  and  easiest  thing  for  you  to  go  to 
your  uncle's  house,  and  we  won't  even  consider  the  fact 
that  your  mother  is  there;  we'll  just  assume  that  her  being 
there  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  and  that  it's 
a  matter  of  our  common  convenience  for  you  to  be  there, 
too.  You  see  how  perfectly  easy  and  natural  it  all  comes 
about." 

She  clung  to  him,  the  tears  welling.  She  had  never  been 
disappointed  in  him,  and  this  generosity  moved  her  deeply. 
He  was  making  it  easy  for  her  to  go  to  her  mother;  that  was 
all.  Her  soul  rebelled  against  the  fate  that  made  necessary 
any  choice  when  her  father  was  so  gentle,  so  wise,  so  kind, 
and  her  mother  so  transcendently  charming  and  lovable. 

"You  are  so  good  to  me;  you  have  always  been  so  good!" 
she  sobbed.  "And  I'm  sorry  I  was  ugly  yesterday,  about 
Nan.  You  know  I  love  Nan.  No  one  was  ever  kinder  to  me 
than  Nan  —  hardly  you,  even!  And  I  don't  want  you  to  give 
her  up;  you  need  each  other;  you  do  understand  each  other! 
Oh,  everything  is  so  queer  and  wrong!" 

"No,  Phil ;  things  are  not  as  queer  and  wrong  as  they  look. 
Don't  get  that  idea  into  your  head.  Life  is  n't  queer  or 
wrong ;  life  simply  is  n't  as  easy  as  it  looks,  and  that 's  very 
different." 

He  smiled,  turning  her  face  so  that  she  could  see  that  he 
smiled  not  unhappily. 

"But  I  don't  want  you  to  go  away;  I'd  die  if  I  thought 
I  should  n't  see  you  any  more  —  and  all  the  good  times  we  've 
had,  right  here  in  this  old  house  —  and  everything  - 

"But  this  is  n't  the  end  of  things.   When  I'm  back,  as  I 


274  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

shall  be  for  a  day  or  two  frequently,  I  '11  always  let  you  know ; 
or  you  can  run  over  to  the  city  and  do  a  theater  with  me 
whenever  you  like.  So  let's  be  cheerful  about  everything." 

The  passing  of  her  trunk  from  her  father's  house  to  her 
uncle's  was  not  neglected  by  the  gossips.  Her  three  aunts 
noted  it,  and  excoriated  Kirkwood  and  Amzi.  They  took 
care  that  every  one  should  know  how  they  felt  about  the 
transfer  of  poor,  dear  Phil  (on  whom  they  had  lavished  their 
love  and  care  for  years,  to  the  end  that  she  might  grow  up 
respectable,  etc.,  etc.)  to  a  roof  that  sheltered  her  Jezebel 
of  a  mother. 

"That  was  nice  of  him,"  said  Lois,  when  Phil  explained 
her  coming.  "How's  your  father  getting  on  these  days?" 

"Oh,  quite  well!"  Phil  replied. 

She  was  establishing  herself  in  a  room  adjoining  her 
mother's.  Lois,  in  a  flowered  silk  kimona,  commented  upon 
Phil's  clothes  as  they  were  hauled  from  the  trunk.  Her 
opinions  in  the  main  were  touched  with  her  light,  glancing 
irony. 

"I'll'wager  Jo  bought  that  walnut-stain  effect,"  she  re- 
marked, pointing  an  accusing  finger  at  a  dark  waist.  "That 
has  Josephine  stamped  on  it.  Poor  old  soul!" 

Her  manner  of  speaking  of  her  sister  set  Phil  to  giggling. 
Mrs.  Waterman  had  bought  that  particular  article  over 
Phil's  solemn  protest,  and  she  now  sat  on  the  bed  and 
watched  her  mother  carry  the  odious  thing  gingerly  by  the 
collar  to  the  door  and  fling  it  in  the  direction  of  the  back 
stairs. 

Lois  brought  from  her  own  room  a  set  of  silver  toilet  arti- 
cles and  distributed  them  over  the  top  of  Phil's  bureau. 

"I  forgot  all  about  these,  Phil;  but  they  fit  in  handily 
right  here.  A  little  self-indulgence  of  my  own,  but  my  old 
ones  are  good  enough.  Oh,  please  don't!"  she  exclaimed, 
as  Phil  began  to  thank  her.  "Why  shouldn't  you  have 
them?  Who  has  a  better  right  to  them,  I'd  like  to  know!" 

Whereupon  she  began  experimenting  with  the  nail-polisher 
from  Phil's  set. 


PHIL  MOVES  TO  AMZI'S  275 

"This  is  a  good  polisher,  Phil.  I  'm  going  to  show  you  how 
to  do  your  own  manicuring  —  every  lady  her  own  maid. 
Sarah  dug  up  a  colored  hairdresser,  manicurist,  and  light- 
running  domestic  chatterbox  this  morning,  and  she  gave 
my  hair  a  pulling  I  shan't  forget  in  a  hurry.  Never  again! 
If  you  can't  have  a  trained  maid,  you'd  better  be  your  own 
beautifier.  I  had  a  wonderful  girl  the  last  time  I  was  over, 
and  took  her  with  me  on  a  motor  trip  through  the  chateau 
country.  She  was  an  outrageous  little  flirt.  Two  chauf- 
feurs got  into  a  row  about  her  during  the  week  we  spent  at 
Tours,  and  one  pounded  the  other  into  a  pulp.  The  French 
rural  police  are  duller  than  the  ox,  and  they  locked  up  Marie 
as  a  witness.  Imagine  my  feelings !  It  was  very  annoying." 

Her  smile  belied  the  annoyance.  Phil  surmised  that  she 
had  enjoyed  the  experience;  but  Lois  added  no  details  to  her 
hasty  picture.  Lois  did  not  trouble  herself  greatly  with  de- 
tails; everything  with  her  was  sketchy  and  impression- 
istic. 

"What  about  boys,  Phil?" 

"I've  had  one  proposal;  he  was  a  senior  with  a  funny 
stammer.  He  went  away  with  his  diploma  last  June,  and 
said  he  'd  never  forget.  I  got  his  cards  to-day.  She 's  a  La- 
fayette girl  he  had  down  for  the  '  Pan '  in  his  senior  year.  She 
has  golden  hair,"  Phil  added  musingly. 

"The  scoundrel ;  to  forget  you  as  quick  as  that ! "  And  Lois 
laughed  as  Phil  bent  her  head  and  clasped  her  hands  in  a 
mockery  of  dejection.  "You've  come  out  and  I  suppose 
you  are  asked  to  all  the  parties.  Let  me  see,  when  I  was  a 
girl  there  were  candy-pullings,  and  'companies'  where  you 
sat  around  and  were  bored  until  somebody  proposed  playing 
'The  Prince  of  Paris  Lost  his  Hat'  or  some  game  like  that. 
When  the  old  folks  went  to  bed,  our  hostess  would  find  a 
pack  of  cards  —  authors,  most  likely  —  or  play  a  waltz  on 
the  soft  pedal  for  two  couples  to  dance.  Wholesome  but  not 
exciting." 

"Oh,  we're  livelier  and  better  than  that !  They  have  real 
balls  now  at  the  Masonic  Hall;  and  all  the  fraternities  have 


276  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

dances,  and  there's  the  Pan-Hellenic,  and  so  on.  And  there 
are  dinners  in  courses,  and  bridge  no  end!" 

"Bridge!" 

Lois  shrugged  her  shoulders,  lifted  her  pretty  brows,  and 
tossed  the  nail-polisher  on  to  the  bureau  to  emphasize  her 
contempt  for  bridge  in  all  its  forms. 

"As  to  young  men,  Phil.  Tell  me  all  about  the  Mont- 
gomery cavaliers." 

"Oh,  every  girl  knows  all  the  boys.  They  are  divided 
into  two  classes  as  usual,  nice  and  un-nice.  Some  of  them 
have  flirted  with  me  and  I  have  flirted  with  them.  I  suppose 
there  was  nothing  very  naughty  in  that." 

"We  will  pass  that  for  the  present.  Tell  me  about  the 
young  fellows  who  pay  you  attentions." 

Phil  ran  over  the  list,  Lois  interrupting  when  some  fam- 
iliar name  arrested  her  attention.  Phil  hit  off  one  after  the 
other  in  a  few  apt  phrases.  Her  mother  in  a  rocking-chair, 
with  arms  folded,  was  more  serious  than  in  any  of  their 
previous  talks.  What  Phil  disclosed  was  only  the  social  ex- 
perience of  the  average  country-town  girl.  The  fact  that  she 
had  made  a  few  acquaintances  in  Indianapolis  interested 
her  mother. 

"The  Fitches?  Yes;  nice  people.  That  was  through  your 
father?  All  right.  Go  on." 

"Well,  there  are  the  two  Hoi  ton  boys,"  said  Phil,  self- 
conscious  for  the  first  time.  "You  see,  my  aunts  thought 
everything  ought  to  be  fixed  up  with  the  Holtons,  and  they 
asked  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  to  my  party,  and  threw  in 
Charlie  and  Ethel,  and  I  suggested  that  they  add  Fred, 
too.  They  are  Samuel's  children.  There  being  the  two 
brothers  it  did  n't  seem  nice  to  leave  out  one;  and  I  already 
knew  Fred  anyhow." 

"Why  this  sudden  affection  of  your  aunts  for  the  Holtons? 
—  there  is  a  reason  for  everything  those  creatures  do." 

"  Mrs.  William  is  stylish  and  does  things.  Her  maid  wears 
a  cap  when  she  opens  the  door,  and  Mrs.  William  makes 
her  calls  in  a  neat  electric." 


PHIL  MOVES  TO  AMZI'S  277 

"Everything  is  explained  quite  satisfactorily,  Phil.  Amzi 
told  me  our  sisters  had  buried  the  hatchet,  but  he  did  n't 
put  it  quite  as  clearly  as  you  do.  He  did  tell  me,  though, 
that  Jack  had  spoiled  your  beautiful  party  by  turning  up 
drunk.  That  was  nasty,  vile,"  she  added,  shrugging  her 
shoulders.  "Well,  about  these  nephews?" 

"  Charlie  is  older,  and  very  citified ;  quite  the  most  dashing 
man  who  lightens  our  horizons.  He  sends  me  flowers  and 
bonbons,  most  expensive.  And  he's  a  joy  at  paying  com- 
pliments; makes  you  feel  that  you're  the  only  one,  or  tries 
to.  He  has  very  large  ideas  about  business  and  life  generally. 
But  nice,  I  think,  and  kind  and  generous.  But,  mamma  — 

She  paused,  disconcerted  by  a  sudden  keen  look  her  mother 
gave  her. 

"He  sounds  like  an  agreeable  person,"  remarked  Lois, 
glancing  at  the  point  of  her  slipper. 

"What  I  started  to  say  was  that  if  you  think  I  should  n't 
see  them  any  more — " 

"Bless  me,  no!  I  see  what's  in  your  mind,  Phil,  but  you 
need  n't  trouble  about  that.  We're  just  trying  to  get  ac- 
quainted, you  and  I.  We  understand  each  other  beautifully, 
and  after  while  we  '11  see  whether  we  have  any  advice  for 
each  other.  At  your  age  I  had  n't  the  sense  of  a  kitten. 
You  're  most  astonishingly  wise ;  I  marvel  at  you !  And  you  Ve 
grown  up  a  nice,  sensible  girl  in  spite  of  your  aunts  —  none 
of  their  cattishness  —  not  a  hint  of  it.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
relieved  I  am  to  find  you  just  as  you  are.  The  way  they  have 
cuddled  up  to  the  Holtons  is  diverting,  but  nothing  more. 
It's  what  you  would  have  expected  of  them.  The  proud  and 
haughty  Montgomerys  turned  snobs!  It's  frightful  to  think 
of  it!  As  for  me,  I  have  nothing  against  the  Holtons.  I'm 
this  kind  of  a  sinner,  Phil:  I  carry  my  own  load.  No  shoving 
it  off  on  anybody  else!  Some  people  are  born  with  ideals; 
I  was  n't!  But  I  hope  to  acquire  some  before  I  die;  we're 
all  entitled  to  a  show  at  them.  But,  bless  me,  what  are  we 
talking  about?  There's  the  other  Holton  boy;  _what's  he  got 
to  say  for  himself?" 


278  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Oh,  he'd  never  say  it  if  it  were  left  to  him!  He's  shy, 
modest,  proud.  No  frills." 

"Handsome?" 

"Well,  he  has  a  nice  face,"  Phil  answered,  so  earnestly 
that  her  mother  laughed.  "And  he's  modest  and  genuine 
and  sincere." 

"Those  are  good  qualities.  As  near  as  I  can  make  out, 
you  like  all  these  young  men  well  enough  —  the  boys  you 
knew  in  high  school  and  the  college  boys.  And  these  Hoi- 
tons  have  broken  into  the  circle  lately,  and  have  shown  you 
small  attentions  —  nothing  very  important." 

"Charlie  sends  me  American  Beauties,  and  Fred  has 
brought  me  quails  and  a  book." 

"What  was  the  book?" 

"'The  Gray  Knight  of  Picardy.'" 

"  That 's  Nan  Bartlett's  ?  "  Lpis  looked  at  the  palm  of  her 
hand  carelessly. 

"  Yes;  it's  a  great  success  —  the  hit  of  the  season." 

"I  suppose  your  father  and  Nan  have  been  good  friends 
—  literary  interests  in  common,  and  all  that?" 

"Of  course,"  Phil  answered,  uncomfortable  under  this 
seemingly  indifferent  questioning. 

"  I  have  read  the  story.  There  are  pages  in  it  that  are  like 
your  father.  I  suppose,  seeing  so  much  of  each  other,  they 
naturally  talked  it  over  —  a  sort  of  collaboration?" 

The  question  required  an  answer,  and  Phil  shrank  from 
answering.  Closeted  with  her  mother  she  was  reluctant 
to  confess  how  close  had  been  the  relationship  between  her 
father  and  Nan  Bartlett.  Her  mind  worked  quickly.  She 
was  outspokenly  truthful  by  habit;  but  she  was  a  loyal  soul, 
too.  She  decided  that  she  could  answer  her  mother's  ques- 
tion without  violating  her  father's  confidence  as  to  his 
feelings  toward  Nan.  That  was  all  over  now;  her  father 
had  told  her  so  in  a  word.  Lois  hummed,  picking  bits  of  lint 
from  her  skirt  while  Phil  deliberated. 

"  Father  did  help  with  it.  I  suppose  he  even  wrote  part  of 
it,  but  nobody  need  know  that.  Daddy  does  n't  mean  to  go 


PHIL  MOVES  TO  AMZI'S  279 

in  for  writing ;  he  says  the  very  suspicion  that  he 's  literary 
would  hurt  him  in  the  law." 

"I  suppose  he  helped  on  the  book  just  to  get  Nan  inter- 
ested. Now  that  she's  launched  as  a  writer,  he  drops  out  of 
the  combination." 

"Something  like  that.    Daddy  is  very  busy,  you  know." 

Phil  entertained  views  of  her  own  as  to  the  cause  of  her 
father's  sudden  awakening.  She  was  sure  that  his  interest  in 
Nan  was  the  inspiration  of  it,  quite  as  much  as  alarm  at  the 
low  ebb  of  his  fortunes.  In  the  general  confusion  into  which 
the  world  had  been  plunged,  Phil  groped  in  the  dark  along 
unfamiliar  walls.  It  was  a  grim  fate  that  flung  her  back  and 
forth  between  father  and  mother,  a  shuttle  playing  across  the 
broken,  tangled  threads  of  their  lives.  She  started  suddenly 
as  a  new  thought  struck  her.  Perhaps  behind  this  seemingly 
inadvertent  questioning  lay  some  deeper  interest.  Suddenly 
the  rose  light  of  romance  touched  the  situation.  Phil  looked 
at  Lois  guardedly.  What  if  — ?  With  an  accession  of  feeling 
she  flung  herself  at  her  mother's  knees  and  took  her  hands. 

"Could  you  and  daddy  ever  make  it  up?  Could  you  do 
that  now,  after  all  these  years?"  she  asked  earnestly. 

Lois  looked  at  her  absently,  with  her  trick  of  trying  to 
recall  a  question  not  fully  comprehended. 

"Oh,  that!  Never  in  this  world !  What  do  you  think  your 
father 's  made  of  ?  "  Again  the  shrug,  so  becoming,  so  expres- 
sive, so  final !  She  freed  her  hands,  and  drew  out  and  replaced 
a  hairpin.  For  an  instant  Phil  was  dismayed,  but  once  so 
far  afield  in  dangerous  territory  she  would  not  retreat. 

"  But  what  would  you  say  ?  "  she  persisted. 

"Dear  Phil,  don't  think  of  such  a  terrible  thing;  it  fairly 
chills  me.  Your  father  is  a  gentleman ;  he  would  n't  —  he 
would  n't  do  anything  so  cruel  as  that!"  she  said  ambigu- 
ously. 

"I  don't  see  how  it  would  be  cruel,  if  he  meant  it  —  if  he 
wanted  to!" 

"That's  because  you  are  an  angel  and  don't  know  any- 
thing about  this  sad  old  world  of  ours.  Life  is  n't  like  the 


OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

story-books,  Phil.  In  a  novel  a  nice  dear  daughter  like  you 
might  reconcile  her  parents  with  tears  and  flowers  and  that 
sort  of  thing;  but  in  real  life  it's  very  different  as  you  will  see 
when  you  think  of  it;  only  I  don't  want  you  to  think  of  it  at 
all.  I  believe  you  like  me;  we  hit  it  off  quite  wonderfully; 
and  I  should  expect  you  to  hate  me  if  I  ever  dreamed  of  any- 
thing so  contemptible  as  spoiling  a  man's  life  twice." 

And  remembering  Nan,  Phil  could  not  argue  the  matter. 
She  was  unable  to  visualize  her  father  on  his  knees  to  her 
mother.  No  flimsy  net  of  sentiment  flung  across  the  chasm 
could  bring  them  within  hailing  distance  of  each  other ;  they 
were  utterly  irreconcilable  characters.  It  was  incredible 
that  they  had  ever  pledged  themselves  to  love  and  cherish 
each  other  forever. 

"  Phil,  what  did  your  father  say  about  my  coming  back?" 
asked  Lois  abruptly. 

Phil  hesitated.  Her  mother  looked  at  her  keenly  in  that 
instant  of  delay,  and  then  laid  her  hand  gently  upon  Phil's 
lips. 

"No;  don't  answer  that!  It  is  n't  a  fair  question.  And 
now  let  us  forget  all  these  things  forever  and  ever!" 

She  proposed  a  walk  before  dinner.  "  I  '11  get  into  my  boots 
and  be  ready  in  a  minute." 

Phil  heard  her  whistling  as  she  moved  about  her  room. 


CHAPTER  XX 

BACK  TO   STOP   SEVEN 

CHARLES  HOLTON  met  his  brother  Fred  in  the  lobby  of  the 
Morton  House  on  an  afternoon  near  the  end  of  January. 
Charles  was  presenting  a  buoyant  exterior  to  the  world  de- 
spite a  renewal  of  the  disquieting  rumors  of  the  fall  as  to 
Sycamore  Traction  and  equally  disagreeable  hints  in  inner 
financial  and  legal  circles  as  to  the  reopening  of  Samuel  Hoi- 
ton's  estate.  He  resented  Fred's  meddling  in  the  matter; 
he  was  the  head  of  the  family  and  a  man  of  affairs,  and  he 
was  not  pleasantly  impressed  by  the  fact  that  on  two  occa- 
sions to  his  knowledge  Fred  had  visited  Kirkwood  at  his  In- 
dianapolis office. 

"  I  want  to  see  you,"  said  Charles.  "Why  don't  you  come 
to  see  me  when  you  're  in  the  city  and  save  me  the  trouble  of 
chasing  over  here?  " 

"Well,  Charlie,  you've  found  me  now.  What  is  it  you 
want?" 

"Come  up  to  my  room.  I  don't  care  to  have  all  Mont- 
gomery hear  us." 

When  the  door  closed  on  them,  Charles  threw  off  his  over- 
coat and  confronted  his  brother  with  a  dark  countenance. 

"You're  playing  the  devil  with  the  whole  bunch  of  us  — 
do  you  realize  that !  You  Ve  been  sneaking  over  to  Kirk- 
wood  to  tell  him  all  our  family  history.  You  think  by  playing 
up  to  him  you'll  get  a  lot  of  money.  If  you  had  any  claims 
against  father's  estate  you  ought  to  have  come  to  me  with 
them  —  not  gone  to  the  man  that's  trying  to  pull  us  all 
down." 

"Stop,  right  where  you  are!  I  went  to  Kirkwood  because 
I  felt  that  the  only  square  thing  was  to  turn  the  farm  over 
to  him  until  things  were  straightened  out.  And  after  I  'd 


282  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

turned  in  the  farm,  you  fell  over  yourself  to  surrender  some 
stuff  you  had  —  things  you  'd  tried  to  hide  or  placed  a  fake 
appraisement  on." 

Charles,  standing  by  the  window  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  smiled  derisively.  Fred's  long  ulster  accentuated 
his  rural  appearance.  He  was  a  big  fellow  and  his  deep 
voice  had  boomed  with  an  aggressive  note  his  brother 
resented. 

"Don't  bawl  as  though  you  were  driving  cattle.  There's 
no  need  of  telling  all  Main  Street  our  affairs.  Do  you  know 
what 's  the  matter  with  you  —  Kirkwood  's  working  you ! 
He's  trying  to  scare  you  with  threats  of  the  penitentiary 
into  telling  him  a  lot  of  stuff  about  the  family.  He  meant  to 
try  it  on  me,  but  I  beat  him  to  it  —  I  told  him  to  go  to  the 
bottom  of  everything.  And  if  you  'd  kept  your  mouth  shut 
I  'd  have  taken  care  of  you,  too.  You  took  that  farm  with 
your  eyes  open ;  and  I  '11  say  to  you  right  now  that  you  got  a 
better  share  of  the  estate  than  Ethel  and  I  did." 

"Then  you  have  n't  anything  to  be  afraid  of.  If  it's  all 
straight  there  can't  be  any  trouble.  Is  this  all  you  wanted?  " 

This  was  evidently  not  in  the  least  what  Charles  wanted, 
for  he  changed  his  tone  and  the  direction  of  the  talk. 

"You  know,  Fred,  I  was  in  father's  confidence  very  fully. 
I  am  older  than  you,  and  I  was  associated  with  him  in  his 
schemes  and  knew  all  about  them.  Father  was  a  very  able 
man;  you  know  that;  everybody  said  he  was  one  of  the 
shrewdest  and  most  farseeing  men  in  the  state.  I  won't  say 
that  his  methods  were  always  just  what  they  should  have 
been ;  but  he 's  dead  and  gone,  and  it 's  not  for  us  to  jump  on 
him  or  let  anybody  else  kick  him.  So  far  we  understand  each 
other,  don't  we?" 

"All  right;  hurry  up  with  the  rest  of  it." 

"This  is  not  a  hurrying  matter.  I  Ve  got  to  take  you  into 
my  confidence,  and  I  want  it  understood  that  what  I  say 
does  n't  go  back  to  Kirkwood.  He's  a  relentless  devil,  once 
he  gets  started.  I  suppose  it  has  n't  occurred  to  you  that  he 
may  have  a  motive  for  pursuing  us  —  you  and  me  and  any 


BACK  TO  STOP  SEVEN  283 

other  Holton  he  has  a  chance  to  injure.  You  see  that  point, 
don't  you?" 

"No.   What  is  it?" 

"Well,  you're  duller  than  I  think  you  are  if  it  hasn't 
occurred  to  you  that  Kirkwood  is  trying  to  even  up  with  us 
for  the  loss  of  his  wife.  It  was  our  dear  Uncle  Jack  that  ran 
off  with  her;  it  was  a  Holton  that  did  it!  You  recollect 
that,  don't  you?" 

"I  seem  to  recall  it,"  replied  Fred  ironically.  He  had 
mechanically  drawn  out  his  pipe  and  was  filling  it  from  a 
canvas  bag  of  cheap  tobacco. 

"And  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  Kirkwood  had  mooned 
around  town  here  for  years,  doing  nothing.  Then  suddenly 
an  old  friend  of  his  in  the  East  took  pity  on  him  and  gave 
him  this  Sycamore  Company  to  meddle  in,  and  he's  con- 
temptible enough  to  use  a  law  case  for  personal  vengeance 
against  perfectly  innocent  people.  And  you  walked  into  the 
trap  like  a  silly  sheep!" 

"You  know  you  don't  believe  that,  Charlie.  Kirkwood 
is  n't  that  kind  of  man.  He 's  on  the  level  and  high  grade." 

"  He  may  be  all  that ;  but  he 's  a  human  being  too.  There 's 
no  man  on  earth  who  'd  pass  a  thing  like  that.  An  ignorant, 
coarse  beast  would  have  shot  somebody;  but  an  educated 
man  like  Kirkwood  calculates  carefully  and  sticks  the  knife 
in  when  he  sees  a  chance  to  make  it  go  clear  through.  That 
girl  of  his  is  the  cutest  kid  in  Indiana,  and  I  would  n't  do  any- 
thing to  hurt  her.  But  we've  got  to  protect  ourselves,  you 
and  I,  Fred.  We're  not  responsible  for  Uncle  Jack's  sins. 
The, whole  thing  is  blistering  Kirkwood  right  now  because 
Uncle  Jack 's  turned  up  and  the  lady  in  the  case  has  had  so 
little  decency  as  to  follow  him." 

"I  don't  suppose  she  thought  of  doing  anything  of  the 
kind.  She  and  Uncle  Jack  broke  long  ago.  He  told  me  so, 
in  fact,  at  Indianapolis,  and  made  her  cruel  abandonment 
an  excuse  for  borrowing  five  dollars  of  me." 

"Well,  we  Ve  got  to  get  rid  of  him  !  He 's  doing  all  he  can 
against  us;  sending  people  to  Kirkwood  with  stories  about 


284  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

father,  and  the  traction  business.  I  tell  you,  Fred,"  he  de- 
clared ardently,  "our  family  is  in  danger  of  going  to  hell  if 
you  and  I  don't  do  something  pretty  quick  to  stop  it." 

Fred  puffed  his  pipe  and  watched  his  brother  fidgeting 
nervously  about  the  room.  A  phonograph  across  the  street 
called  attention  to  a  moving-picture  show.  In  the  hotel  office 
below,  the  porter  proclaimed  the  departure  of  the  'bus  to 
connect  with  the  six-three  for  Peoria  and  all  points  West. 

"There  they  go  now!"  exclaimed  Charles  from  the  win- 
dow. "By  George!  She 's  a  good-looking  woman  yet !" 

Fred  joined  him  and  looked  down.  Phil  and  her  mother 
were  passing  rapidly  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  Un- 
consciously Fred  drew  off  his  cap. 

"She's  a  very  pleasant  woman,"  he  remarked.  "Phil 
introduced  me  to  her  the  other  day." 

"The  devil  she  did!   Where  did  all  this  happen?" 

"At  Mr.  Montgomery's.  Phil's  staying  there  while  her 
father 's  away." 

"I  like  your  cheek!  They  say  my  nerve  is  pretty  well 
developed,  but  it  is  n't  equal  to  that.  How  did  our  late 
aunt  —  I  suppose  that's  what  she  is,"  he  grinned  —  "take 
you?" 

"Like  a  lady,  for  instance.  My  going  there  wasn't  as 
cheeky  as  you  imagine.  I  was  invited." 

"Phil?"" 

"No;  Mr.  Montgomery." 

"There  must  be  a  trick  in  it  somewhere.  He's  a  foxy  old 
boy,  that  Amzi.  Has  the  general  appearance  of  a  fool,  but 
he  never  loses  any  money." 

"He's  offered  me  a  job,"  said  Fred. 

"He's  what?" 

"Offered  me  a  job." 

"What's  the  joke?  You  don't  mean  that  with  all  this 
fuss  over  his  sister's  coming  back  he 's  picked  out  a  Holton 
to  offer  a  job  to!" 

"That's  what's  happened.  They  want  Perry  —  his 
farmer  —  to  take  a  teaching  place  at  the  agricultural  school. 


BACK  TO  STOP  SEVEN  285 

It's  a  fine  chance  for  him,  and  Mr.  Montgomery  has  released 
him  from  his  contract.  Perry  recommended  me,  and  Mr. 
Montgomery  asked  me  to  the  house  a  few  evenings  ago  to 
talk  it  over.  The  arrangement  includes  my  own  farm,  too, 
which  Kirkwood  holds  as  trustee  until  the  Sycamore  business 
is  straightened  out." 

Charles  backed  away  and  stared  at  his  brother  scornfully. 

"You  idiot!  don't  you  see  what  they're  doing?  They're 
buying  you  body  and  soul.  They  want  to  get  you  on  their 
side  —  don't  you  see  it?  —  to  use  against  Uncle  Will  and 
me.  Well !  of  all  the  smooth,  cold-blooded,  calculating  scoun- 
drels I  ever  heard  of,  they  are  the  beatingest.  Of  course  you 
saw  it;  you  have  n't  walked  into  the  trap!" 

"I've  accepted  the  position." 

"You  blundering  fool,  you  can't  accept  it!  I  won't  let 
you  accept  it!" 

"I'm  moving  my  traps  to  the  Montgomery  farmhouse 
to-morrow,  so  you  '11  have  to  call  out  the  troops  if  you  stop 
me." 

"Well,  of  all  the  damned  fools!"  Then  after  a  turn  across 
the  room  he  flashed  round  at  his  brother.  "  Look  here,  Fred ; 
I  see  your  game.  You  want  to  marry  that  girl.  Well,  you 
can't  do  that  either!" 

"All  right,  Charlie.  Suppose  you  write  out  a  list  of  the 
various  things  I  can't  do  so  I  won't  miss  any  of  them.  You 
have  n't  any  sense  of  humor  or  you  would  n't  talk  about 
Phil  marrying  me.  Phil 's  not  likely  to  marry  a  clodhopper, 
her  uncle's  hired  hand." 

"  Don't  be  an  ass,  Fred.  Phil 's  a  fine  girl ;  she 's  a  wonder." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Fred  deliberately,  "that  if  you  wanted 
to  marry  Phil  Kirkwood  yourself  there  would  be  no  dis- 
loyalty to  our  family  in  that.  It  would  be  perfectly  proper; 
quite  the  right  thing." 

"  I  did  n't  say  I  wanted  to  marry  her,"  jerked  Charles. 

He  was  pacing  the  floor  with  bent  head.  His  brother's 
equanimity  irritated  him  and  intensified  his  anger.  He  struck 
his  hands  together  suddenly  as  though  emphasizing  a  resolu- 


286  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

tion,  and  arrested  Fred,  who  had  knocked  the  ashes  from 
his  pipe  and  was  walking  slowly  toward  the  door. 

"  I  say,  Fred,  I  did  n't  mean  to  flare  up  that  way,  but  all 
this  Sycamore  business  has  got  on  my  nerves.  Sit  down  a 
minute.  Uncle  Will 's  in  a  terrible  funk.  Plumb  scared  to 
death.  And  just  between  you  and  me  he's  got  a  right  to 
be." 

He  crossed  to  the  door,  opened  it  and  peered  into  the 
hall.  Fred  balanced  himself  on  the  footboard  of  the  bed, 
and  watched  his  brother  expectantly.  Earlier  in  the  interview 
Charles  had  begun  to  say  something  as  to  their  father's 
affairs,  but  had  failed  to  reach  the  point,  either  by  design  or 
through  the  chance  drift  of  their  talk.  Charles  was  deeply 
worried;  that  was  clear;  and  Fred  resolved  to  give  him 
time  to  swing  back  to  the  original  starting-point. 

"I'm  sorry  if  Uncle  Will's  in  trouble,  he  remarked." 

"It's  the  First  National,"  Charles  went  on  in  an  excited 
whisper.  "The  examiner  made  a  bad  report  last  month  and 
the  Comptroller  sent  a  special  agent  out  who's  raised  the 
devil  —  threatened  to  shut  him  up.  That's  bad  enough.  If 
old  Kirkwood  gets  ugly  about  Sycamore,  you  can 't  tell  what 
he  may  do.  He 's  playing  an  awful  deep,  quiet  game.  The 
fact  is  he's  got  us  all  where  he  wants  us.  If  he  turned  the 
screws  right  now  we're  pinched.  And  here's  something  I 
did  n't  mean  to  tell  you ;  but  I  Ve  got  to ;  and  you  Ve  got  to 
come  in  and  help  me.  Father  knew  the  Sycamore  was  over- 
bonded.  The  construction  company  was  only  a  fake  and 
charged  about  double  a  fair  price  for  its  work.  Father  only 
cashed  part  of  the  bonds  he  got  on  the  construction  deal 
and  hid  the  rest ;  and  when  he  died  suddenly  I  had  to  think 
hard  and  act  quick,  for  I  saw  the  road  was  going  to  the 
bad,  and  that  the  people  who  had  bought  bonds  in  good 
faith  would  rise  up  and  howl.  When  I  took  hold  as  adminis- 
trator, I  inventoried  only  the  obvious  stuff  —  that 's  why 
it  looked  so  small.  I  meant  to  give  you  and  Ethel  your  share 
when  the  danger  was  all  over  —  did  n't  want  to  involve  you ; 
you  see  how  it  was.  And  now  Kirkwood's  trying  to  trace 


BACK  TO  STOP  SEVEN  287 

that  stuff  —  about  three  hundred  thousand  —  a  hundred 
thousand  apiece  for  you  and  Ethel  and  me.  No;  not  a  word 
till  I  get  through,"  he  whispered  hoarsely  as  Fred  tried  to 
break  in.  "They  can  send  me  up  for  that;  juggling  the 
inventory ;  but  you  see  how  we  're  all  in  the  same  boat.  And 
what  you  can  do  to  save  me  and  the  bank  and  father's  good 
name  is  to  go  to  Kirkwood  —  he  thinks  well  of  you  and  will 
believe  you  —  and  tell  him  you  know  positively  that  father 
never  got  any  of  the  construction  bonds.  You  can  be  sure 
the  construction  company  fellows  got  rid  of  theirs  and  took 
themselves  off  long  ago.  It  was  a  fake  company,  anyhow. 
It's  all  in  Kirkwood's  hands;  if  you  shut  him  off,  Uncle  Will 
can  pull  the  bank  through.  And  I  '11  give  you  your  share  of 
the  bonds  now." 

The  perspiration  glistened  on  his  forehead ;  he  ran  his  hands 
through  his  hair  nervously.  Misreading  the  look  in  Fred's 
face  for  incredulity,  he  pointed  to  the  closet  door. 

"  I  've  got  the  bonds  in  my  suit-case ;  I  was  afraid  Kirkwood 
might  find  a  way  of  getting  into  my  safety  box  at  Indianapo- 
lis. He 's  no  end  smart,  that  fellow.  And  I  figure  that  if  the 
road  goes  into  a  receivership  the  bonds  will  pay  sixty  anyhow. 
You  see  where  that  puts  you  —  no  more  of  this  farmer  rot. 
You  'd  be  well  fixed.  And  it  will  be  easy  for  you  to  satisfy 
Kirkwood.  Just  the  right  word  and  he  will  pull  his  probe  out 
of  the  administratorship,  and  get  a  receiver  who  will  repre- 
sent us  and  give  us  the  proceeds  when  the  trouble 's  all  over. 
Damn  it!  Don't  look  at  me  that  way!  Don't  you  see  that 
I  've  been  taking  big  chances  in  hiding  that  stuff,  just  for 
you  and  Ethel !  I  'm  going  crazy  with  the  responsibility  of 
all  this,  and  now  you  've  got  to  help  me  out.  And  if  Kirk- 
wood gets  to  the  grand  jury  with  that  administration  busi- 
ness, you  see  where  it  puts  us  —  what  it  means  to  you  and 
Ethel,  the  disgrace  of  it.  Don't  forget  that  father  took  those 
bonds  —  his  share  of  Sycamore  swag  —  and  left  it  up  to  me 
to  defend  his  good  name  and  divide  the  proceeds  when  it 
was  safe.  Don't  stand  there  like  a  dead  man !  Say  something, 
can't  you!" 


288  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

It  had  slowly  dawned  upon  Fred  that  he  was  listening  to 
an  appeal  for  mercy,  a  cry  for  help  from  this  jaunty,  cock- 
sure brother.  It  was  a  miserable  mess;  beyond  doubt  much 
of  what  he  had  heard  in  the  stuffy  hotel  room  was  true.  It 
would  not  be  Charles's  way  to  incriminate  himself  so  far 
unless  driven  to  it  by  direst  necessity.  It  was  clear  that  he 
was  alarmed  for  his  personal  safety.  Fred  did  not  doubt 
that  Charles  had  attempted  to  swindle  him;  had  in  fact 
gone  the  full  length  of  doing  so.  His  simple,  direct  nature  was 
awed  by  a  confession  that  combined  so  many  twists  and 
turns,  so  many  oblique  lines  and  loops  and  circles.  He  sank 
into  a  creaky  rocker,  and  rapped  the  arm  idly  with  his  pipe- 
bowl,  conscious  that  Charles  hovered  over  him  as  though 
fearful  that  he  might  escape. 

" Come  back  to  life,  can't  you!  It's  not  much  I  'm  asking 
of  you;  it  won't  cost  you  anything  to  help  tide  this  thing 
over  with  Kirkwood.  And  you  get  your  share  right  now  — 
to-night.  Why — "  His  lip  curled  with  scornful  depreciation 
as  he  began  again  to  minimize  the  importance  of  the  trans- 
action. 

Fred  shook  himself  impatiently. 

"Please  don't !  Don't  go  over  that  story  again  or  I  may  do 
something  ugly.  Sit  down  over  there  in  that  chair." 

He  bent  forward,  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  gesticulated 
with  the  pipe,  speaking  slowly. 

"Let's  shake  the  chaff  out  and  see  what's  left  of  all  this. 
You  stole  my  share  of  those  bonds,  and  now  that  you  're  in 
danger  of  getting  caught  you  want  me  to  help  you  hide  the 
boodle.  You  flatter  me  with  the  idea  that  my  reputation  is 
so  much  better  than  yours  that  I'm  in  a  position  to  keep 
you  out  of  jail.  And  for  a  little  thing  like  that  you  're  willing 
to  give  me  my  honest  share  of  a  crooked  deal!  You're  a 
wonder,  Charlie!  It  must  have  tickled  you  to  death  to  see 
me  turning  my  poor  old  farm  over  to  Kirkwood  to  uphold 
the  family  honor  while  you  were  chasing  over  the  country 
with  the  real  stuff  packed  away  with  your  pajamas.  It's 
picturesque,  I  must  say!" 


BACK  TO  STOP  SEVEN  289 

His  eyes  rested  upon  his  brother's  face  lingeringly,  but  his 
tone  and  manner  were  indulgent,  as  though  he  were  an  older 
brother  who  had  caught  a  younger  one  in  a  misdemeanor. 

"Cut  that  out!  I've  told  you  the  whole  truth.  If  you 
won't  help,  all  right." 

"No,  it  is  n't  all  right.  There's  no  all  right  about  any  of 
this.  It's  rotten  clean  through." 

He  frowned  with  the  stress  of  his  thought,  then  rose,  and 
began  buttoning  his  coat. 

"Well?"  Charles  questioned  harshly,  impatient  for  his 
brother's  decision. 

"I  won't  do  it.  I  won't  have  anything  to  do  with  your 
scheme.  After  the  trouble  you've  taken  to  steal  those  bonds 
it  would  be  a  shame  to  take  any  of  them  away  from  you. 
I  advise  you  to  carry  them  back  to  Indianapolis  and  turn 
them  over  to  Kirkwood.  He's  not  half  the  cold-blooded 
scoundrel  you  seem  to  think.  You  'd  make  a  big  hit  with 
him." 

"And  after  I  Ve  told  you  everything  —  after  I  Ve  shown 
you  that  I  was  only  covering  up  father's  share  in  that  con- 
struction business,  for  your  sake,  and  our  sister's,  that 'sail 
you've  got  to  say  about  it!" 

"Every  word!" 

A  malevolent  grin  crossed  the  older  man's  face.  He  was 
white  with  passion. 

' '  You  '11  pay  for  this ;  I  '11  land  one  on  you  for  this  that  will 

hurt." 

He  waited  expectantly  for  Fred  to  demand  the  nature  of 
this  vengeance;  his  rage  cried  for  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
him  flinch  at  the  blow.  Fred  settled  his  cap  on  his  head  and 
walked  stolidly  toward  the  door.  Charles  caught  him  by 
the  shoulder  and  flung  him  round. 

"You  think  you  can  drop  me  like  that!  Not  by  a  damned 
sight  you  can't!    You  think  you  stand  pretty  close  to  the 
Montgomerys,  don't  you?  —the  only  real  good  Holton  mtf 
bunch  —  but  I  '11  give  you  a  jar.  You  imagine  you  're  going 
to  marry  Phil,  don't  you? —but  I  '11  show  you  a  thing  or  two. 


29°  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

I  'm  going  to  marry  Phil  myself ;  it 's  all  practically  under- 
stood." 

"That's  all  right,  too,  Charlie,"  replied  Fred  calmly.  "The 
ambition  does  you  proud.  I  suppose  when  you  tell  Kirkwood 
you're  engaged  to  his  daughter  he  will  call  off  the  dogs." 

"Oh,  they're  not  so  high  and  mighty!  Now  that  Phil's 
mother  has  brought  her  smirched  reputation  back  here,  Phil 
will  be  glad  to  marry  and  get  out." 

"Just  for  old  time's  sake,  Charlie,  I  advise  you  not  to  play 
that  card." 

"You're  too  late  with  your  advice.  That  day  Phil  and  I 
climbed  The  Cliffs  she  promised  to  marry  me.  You  saw  us 
up  there;  that  was  before  her  mother  came  back.  But  as 
far  as  her  mother 's  concerned,  I  '11  stand  for  her.  A  woman 
that's  been  through  the  divorce  mill  twice  has  got  to  be 
humble.  You  can  be  dead  sure  she  would  never  have  shown 
up  here  if  it  had  n't  been  for  old  Amzi's  ducats.  Women  like 
that  go  where  the  money  comes  easiest." 

Fred  listened  with  a  kind  of  bewildered  intensity.  That  a 
man  should  speak  thus  of  the  mother  of  a  girl  whom  he 
meant  to  marry  touched  the  uttermost  depths  of  vulgarity. 
Little  as  he  had  in  common  with  his  brother,  he  had  never 
believed  him  capable  of  anything  so  base.  Yet  much  as  he 
distrusted  him,  he  half-believed  the  story  of  the  engagement. 
There  must  be  some  basis  for  his  declaration,  and  it  would 
be  quite  like  Charles  to  hasten  matters  with  a  view  to 
blocking  Kirkwood 's  investigations  of  the  Holton  estate. 
Jealousy  and  anger  surged  in  his  heart.  The  air  of  the  room 
stifled  him. 

"You've  lost  your  mind;  that's  the  only  way  I  can  ex- 
plain you.  If  you  were  quite  sane,  you  would  n't  forget  the 
part  our  father's  brother  played  in  Phil's  mother's  affairs." 

"Don't  take  that  tragic  tone  with  me;  Uncle  Jack's  told 
me  all  about  that  woman.  She 's  the  very  devil.  She  led  him 
a  dog's  life  until  he  chucked  her." 

Fred  nodded,  slowly  drawing  on  his  gloves,  whose  shabbi- 
ness  affected  his  brother  disagreeably.  Charles  had  expected 


BACK  TO  STOP  SEVEN  291 

to  score  heavily  with  his  declaration  that  Phil  had  promised 
to  marry  him;  but  this  had  apparently  been  a  wasted  shot. 
He  wondered  whether  he  had  misread  the  symptoms  that 
had  seemed  to  indicate  Fred's  interest  in  that  quarter. 

Fred's  composure  was  irritating.  Charles  was  never  sure 
what  impression  he  made  on  this  quiet  brother,  whose  very 
unresponsiveness  had  driven  him  to  disclosures  he  had  not 
meant  to  make.  He  had  managed  the  interview  clumsily ;  he 
was  not  up  to  the  mark,  or  he  would  not  have  made  so  many 
false  starts  in  this  talk,  on  whose  results  he  had  counted 
much. 

His  fingers  touched  his  scarfpin  and  tie  nervously. 

"Now  that  you  know  the  whole  business  I  need  n't  ask 
you  to  keep  your  mouth  shut.  But  I  suppose  with  your 
delicate  sense  of  honor  I'm  safe." 

"You  are  quite  safe,  Charlie.  I'd  repeat  my  advice  if  I 
thought  it  would  do  any  good.  I  'd  turn  that  stuff  over  to 
Kirkwood  as  quickly  as  I  could." 

He  had  opened  the  door  and  started  down  the  hall  when 
Charles,  his  apprehensions  aroused  as  he  saw  his  brother's 
determined  stride  toward  the  stairs,  sprang  after  him. 

"What  are  you  up  to;  where  are  you  going?"  he  de- 
manded excitedly. 

"Stop  7.   Good-night!" 


CHAPTER   XXI 
PHIL'S  FISTS 

"THIS  is  very  kind  of  you,  Mrs.  Hoi  ton.  Please  be  sure 
that  I  appreciate  it." 

Charles  Holton  bowed  profoundly,  and  lifted  his  head  for 
a  closer  inspection  of  Mrs.  Lois  Montgomery  Holton. 

He  had  called  for  Phil,  whom  he  had  engaged  to  escort 
to  a  lecture  in  the  Athenaeum  Course.  When  his  note  pro- 
posing this  entertainment  reached  Phil,  she  dutifully  laid 
it  before  her  mother  who  lay  on  her  bed  reading  a  French 
novel. 

"Special  delivery!  A  wild  extravagance  when  there's  a 
perfectly  good  telephone  in  the  house." 

Lois  read  the  note  twice;  her  eyes  resting  lingeringly  upon 
the  signature. 

"Wayland  Brown  Bayless,  LL.D.,  on  'Sunshine  and 
Shadow.'  He  was  giving  that  same  lecture  here  when  I  was 
a  girl;  it  ought  to  be  well  mellowed  by  this  time.  Either 
the  president  of  the  college  or  the  pastor  of  Center  Church 
will  present  him  to  the  audience  and  the  white  pitcher  of 
Sugar  Creek  water  that  is  always  provided.  Well,  it's  a 
perfectly  good  lecture,  and  old  enough  to  be  respectable: 
Smiles  and  sobs  stuck  in  at  regular  intervals.  I  approve  of 
the  lecture,  Phil.  I  'd  almost  make  Amzi  take  me,  just  to  see 
how  Bayless,  LL.D.,  looks  after  all  these  years.  Away  back 
there  when  I  heard  him  he  looked  so  old  I  thought  he  must 
have  been  a  baby  playing  in  the  sand  when  they  carved  the 
Sphinx." 

She  returned  the  note  to  Phil  and  her  eyes  reverted  to  the 
book. 

"What  about  it,  mamma?" 

"Oh,  about  going!    Let  me  see.    This  is  the  other  Holton 


PHIL'S  FISTS  293 

boy,  so  to  speak  —  the  provider  of  American  Beauties,  as 
distinguished  from  the  dispenser  of  quails?" 

Phil  confirmed  this. 

"It's  Charlie.  He 's  taken  me  to  parties  several  times.  I 
rather  think  this  note  is  a  feeler.  He  does  n't  know  whether 
he  ought  to  come  here  —  now  -  "  and  Phil  ended,  with  the 
doubt  she  attributed  to  Charles  Holton  manifest  in  her  own 
uncertainty. 

"We  went  over  that  the  other  day,  Phil.  As  those  wise 
aunts  of  yours  introduced  you  to  this  person,  I  should  n't 
suggest  that  you  drop  his  acquaintance  on  my  account.  You 
see"  —  she  raised  herself  slightly  to  punch  a  more  comfort- 
able hollow  in  the  pillows — "you  see  that  would  merely 
stir  up  strife,  which  is  highly  undesirable.  If  you  think  you 
can  survive  Bayless,  LL.D.'s,  plea  for  optimism,  accept  the 
gentleman's  invitation.  There's  only  this  —  you  yourself 
might  be  a  little  uncomfortable,  for  reasons  we  need  n't  men- 
tion; you'll  have  to  think  of  that.  I  suppose  chaperons 
did  n't  reach  Montgomery  with  the  electric  light;  girls  run 
around  with  young  men  just  as  they  used  to." 

"  I  don't  care  what  people  say,  so  far  as  that  is  concerned," 
replied  Phil.  "  Charlie  has  been  kind  to  me  —  and  the  lec- 
ture is  the  only  thing  that  offers  just  now." 

Lois  laughed. 

"Then,  go!" 

"And  besides,  just  now  people  are  talking  about  the 
Sycamore  Company  and  father's  connection  with  it,  and  I 
should  n't  want  Charlie  to  feel  that  I  thought  he  was  n't  all 
straight  about  that;  for  I  don't  suppose  he  did  anything 
wrong.  He  does  n't  seem  like  that." 

Lois  reached  for  a  pot  of  cold  cream  and  applied  the  oint- 
ment to  her  lips  with  the  tip  of  a  slim,  well-cared-for  finger. 

"You  think  maybe  he's  being  persecuted?" 

"Oh,  I've  wondered;  that's  all." 

"I  should  n't  worry  about  that  part  of  it:  if  you  feel  like 
going,  tell  him  you'll  go.  It  will  give  me  a  chance  to  look 
at  him.  This  is  Charles,  is  it?  Then  it  was  Fred  who  came 


294  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

the  other  evening  to  see  Amzi ;  —  he 's  pretty  serious  but  sub- 
stantial—  permissible  if  not  exactly  acceptable.  You'll 
have  to  learn  to  judge  men  for  yourself.  And  you'll  do 
it.  I  'm  not  a  bit  afraid  for  you.  And  it 's  rather  fortunate 
than  otherwise  that  you  have  specimens  of  the  Holton 
family  to  work  on,  particularly  with  me  standing  by  to  throw 
a  word  in  now  and  then." 

So  it  came  about  that  when  Charles  appeared  the  next 
evening,  fortified  with  one  of  the  village  hacks,  Lois  went 
down  to  inspect  him.  Amzi  had  returned  to  the  bank,  and 
Phil  was  changing  her  gown. 

Charles,  having  expressed  his  appreciation  of  Mrs.  Helton's 
courtesy,  found  difficulty  in  concealing  the  emotions  she 
aroused  in  him.  He  had  expected  to  feel  uncomfortable 
in  the  presence  of  this  lady,  of  whom  her  former  husband, 
his  uncle,  had  spoken  so  bitterly;  but  she  was  not  at  all 
the  sort  of  person  one  would  suspect  of  being  in  league 
with  the  Devil  —  an  alliance  vouched  for  in  profane  terms 
by  Jack  Holton.  Charles  liked  new  sensations,  and  it  was 
positively  thrilling  to  stand  face  to  face  with  this  woman  who 
had  figured  so  prominently  in  his  family  history. 

He  placed  a  chair  for  her  with  elaborate  care,  and  bowed 
her  into  it.  She  was  a  much  more  smoothly  finished  product 
than  her  daughter.  He  liked  "smart"  women,  and  Mrs. 
Holton  was  undeniably  "smart."  Her  languid  grace,  the 
faint  hints  of  sachet  her  raiment  exhaled;  her  abrupt, 
crisp  manner  of  speaking  —  in  innumerable  ways  she  was 
delightful  and  satisfying.  She  was  a  woman  of  the  world: 
as  a  man  of  the  world  he  felt  that  they  understood  each  other 
without  argument.  The  disparity  of  their  years  was  not  so 
great  as  to  exclude  the  hope  that  little  attentions  from  him 
would  be  grateful  to  her;  it  was  a  fair  assumption  that  a 
woman  who  had  dismissed  two  husbands  would  not  be  averse 
to  the  approaches  of  a  presentable  young  man.  He  wished 
to  fix  himself  in  her  mind  as  one  who  breathed  naturally 
the  ampler  ether  of  her  own  world.  It  would  be  easier  to  win 
Phil  with  her  mother  as  an  ally. 


PHIL'S  FISTS  295 

"You  did  go  to  Madison?  I  suppose  all  good  Montgomery 
boys  go  to  the  home  college." 

"Well,  of  course  that  was  one  of  my  mistakes.  You  never 
quite  recover  what  you  lose  by  going  to  these  little  fresh- 
water colleges.  You  never  quite  get  the  jay  out  of  your 
system." 

The  obvious  reply  to  this  was  that  in  his  case  it  had  not 
mattered,  for  patently  he  did  not  even  remotely  suggest 
the  state  or  condition  of  jayness;  but  Mrs.  Holton  ignored 
the  opportunity  to  appease  his  vanity. 
"Oh!" 

Phil's  "Oh"  was  ambiguous  enough;  but  her  mother's 
was  even  more  baffling. 

"Of  course,  we  all  love  Madison,"  he  hastened  to  add; 
"but  I  'm  around  a  good  deal,  here  and  there  over  the  coun- 
try, and  when  I  meet  Yale  and  Harvard  men  I  always  feel 
that  I  have  missed  something;  there  is  a  difference." 
"Clothes  —  neckties?"  suggested  Mrs.  Holton. 
"It's  a  little  deeper  than  that." 
"Knack  of  ordering  a  dinner?" 

"Oh,  you  're  putting  me  in  a  corner!  I  'd  never  thought  it 
all  out;  but  I've  always  felt  a  difference.  If  I'm  wrong, 
there's  nobody  I  'd  rather  have  set  me  right  than  you." 

Her  laugh  was  enthralling.  She  had  no  intention  of  com- 
mitting herself  on  the  relative  advantages  of  big  and  little 
colleges. 

"Let  me  see,  Mr.  Holton,  your  business  is  — 
"Oh,  I 'm  a  broker  in  investment  securities;  that's  the 
way  they  have  me  down  in  the  Indianapolis  Directory." 

"You  advise  people  what  to  do  with  their  money  and  that 
sort  of  thing?  It's  very  responsible,  I  should  think,  and  it 
must  be  wearing." 

Her  face  reflected  the  gravity  associated  with  the  delicate 
matter  of  investments.  For  a  woman  whose  two  matri- 
monial adventures  had  left  her  a  stranded  dependent  she 
carried  this  off  well,  and  she  could  play  a  part;  and  he  liked 
people  who  could  carry  a  part  gracefully.  She  turned  so  that 


296  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

the  firelight  fell  upon  her  face  and  raised  a  fan  to  shield  her 
cheek  from  the  heat.  Her  use  of  her  hands  charmed  him.  He 
could  not  recall  a  more  graceful  woman  in  all  his  acquaint- 
ance. He  added  trim  ankles  and  a  discriminating  taste  in 
silk  hose  to  his  itemized  appraisement  of  her  attractions. 

"  If  a  poor  lone  woman  should  come  to  you  with  a  confes- 
sion that  she  owned,  say,  fifty  to  a  hundred  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  Government  3's,  what  would  you  advise  her  to  do 
with  them?" 

It  was  as  though  she  spoke  of  poetry  or  the  moonlit  sea. 
"Fifty  or  a  hundred!"  She  could  as  easily  have  spoken  of 
a  chest  of  Spanish  doubloons,  or  some  other  monetary  unit 
of  romance.  He  was  flattered  that  she  was  taking  so  much 
pains  with  him;  a  woman  who  was  so  fair  to  look  upon 
might  amuse  herself  at  his  expense  as  much  as  she  liked.  It 
was  delightful  trifling.  He  felt  that  it  was  incumbent  upon 
him  to  respond  in  kind. 

"Oh,  I  should  feel  it  my  duty  to  double  her  income  —  or 
triple  it.  Few  of  us  can  afford  to  fool  with  Governments; 
but,  of  course,  there  are  not  many  first-rate  securities  that 
pay  high  interest.  That 's  where  I  come  in :  it 's  my  business 
to  find  them  for  my  clients." 

' '  What  would  you  recommend  —  I  mean  right  now  — 
something  that  would  net  seven  per  cent  and  be  safe  for  the 
poor  widow  we're  talking  about?" 

"Well,"  he  laughed  nervously,  "I  haven't  anything 
better  right  now  than  bonds  of  the  Hornbrook  Electric 
Power  at  a  price  to  net  six." 

"But  —  that  sounds  very  conservative.  And  besides  — 
they  say  there's  not  enough  water  in  Hornbrook  Creek  to 
furnish  power  for  any  great  number  of  mills.  The  engineer's 
report  was  very  unsatisfactory  —  quite  so.  I  looked  into 
that.  Should  you  say  that  the  territory  adjacent  to  the 
creek  is  likely  to  invite  —  oh,  factories,  mills,  and  that  sort 
of  thing?" 

He  colored  as  her  brown  eyes  met  his  in  one  of  her  flash- 
ing glances.  She  mentioned  Hornbrook  Creek  in  her  low, 


PHIL'S  FISTS  297 

caressing  voice  as  though  it  were  only  an  item  of  landscape, 
and  the  report  of  the  engineers  might  have  been  a  pirate's 
round-robin,  hidden  in  an  old  sea  chest  from  the  way  she 
spoke  of  it.  It  was  inconceivable  that  she  had  prepared  for 
this  interview.  She  touched  her  pompadour  lightly  with  the 
back  of  her  hand  —  the  smallest  of  hands  —  and  he  was  so 
lost  in  admiration  of  the  witcheryof  the  gesture  that  he  was 
disconcerted  to  find  her  eyes  bent  upon  him  keenly. 

"  Of  course,  it 's  got  to  be  developed  —  like  anything  else," 
he  replied. 

" But  —  the  fixed  charges  —  and  that  sort  of  thing?" 

He  wished  she  would  not  say  "that  sort  of  thing."  The 
phrase  as  she  used  it  swept  everything  before  it  like  a  broom. 

"  It's  a  delicate  matter,  the  sale  of  bonds,"  she  continued. 
"I  suppose  if  they  turn  out  badly  the  investors  have  the  bad 
manners  to  complain." 

"Well,  it's  up  to  the  broker  to  satisfy  them.  My  father 
taught  me  that,"  he  went  on  largely.  "  He  promoted  a  great 
number  of  schemes  and  nobody  ever  had  any  kick.  You  may 
have  heard  of  the  Sycamore  troubles — well,  I  'm  personally 
assuming  the  responsibility  there.  I  deeply  regret,  as  you 
may  imagine,  that  there  should  be  all  this  talk,  but  I'm 
going  to  pull  it  out.  It's  only  fair  to  myself  to  say  to  you 
that  that 's  my  attitude.  There 's  a  lot  of  spite  work  back 
of  it;  you  probably  realize  that." 

He  wanted  to  say  that  Tom  Kirkwood  was  the  malignant 
agent  in  the  situation,  but  he  shrank  from  mentioning  the 
lawyer.  He  wished  Phil  would  come  down  and  terminate 
an  interview  that  was  becoming  increasingly  disagreeable. 

"What  do  you  consider  those  Sycamore  bonds  worth, 
Mr.  Holton?" 

"Par!"  he  ejaculated. 

"You  really  think  so?" 

"My  word  of  honor!  There's  not  a  better  'buy'  in  the 
American  market,"  he  affirmed  solemnly. 

"  You  can  dispose  of  them  at  full  face  value?  "  she  queried, 
arching  her  brows,  her  eyes  full  of  wonder. 


298  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"I'll  pay  that  for  any  you  have,  Mrs.  Holton,"  he  threw 
out  at  a  venture,  feeling  that  it  was  a  "safe"  play. 

"Then  I  have  twenty  of  them,  and  I  believe  I'll  sell. 
You  may  bring  me  a  check  to-morrow.  I  shall  have  the 
bonds  here  at,  say,  three  o'clock." 

She  glanced  carelessly  at  the  watch  on  her  wrist,  and 
murmured  something  about  Phil's  delay.  The  bond  trans- 
action was  concluded,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned ;  she  spoke 
now  of  the  reported  illness  of  the  Czar.  She  had  visited  St. 
Petersburg  and  appeared  to  be  conversant  with  Russian 
politics. 

It  was  in  Charles's  mind  that  his  Uncle  Jack  would  never 
have  dropped  a  woman  who  owned  twenty  bonds  that  were 
worth  even  a  dime  apiece.  He  was  confident  of  some  trick. 
Phil's  mother  had  led  him  into  ambush,  and  was  now  enjoy- 
ing his  discomfiture.  His  face  reddened  with  anger.  She  knew 
perfectly  well  that  he  could  not  fulfill  the  commission  he  had 
been  trapped  into  undertaking.  His  pride  was  stung,  and  his 
humiliation  was  deepened  by  her  perfect  tranquillity.  Phil's 
delay  had  been  by  connivance,  to  give  time  for  this  encoun- 
ter. His  Uncle  Jack  had  been  right :  the  woman  belonged  to 
the  Devil's  household. 

His  ordeal  had  lasted  only  twenty  minutes,  though  it  had 
seemed  an  hour.  Phil's  tardiness  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
she  had  returned  from  a  tea  just  as  dinner  was  announced, 
and  she  had  gone  to  the  table  without  changing  her  gown. 
She  had,  of  course,  no  idea  of  what  had  occurred  when  she 
appeared  before  them,  and  met  with  her  habitual  cheeriness 
her  mother's  chaffing  rebuke  for  her  dallying. 

"Sorry!  But  it's  only  eight,  and  the  lecturer  dined  with 
Mrs.  King,  who  never  hurries.  Hope  you  two  have  n't  bored 
each  other!" 

She  thrust  out  her  white-sheathed  arm  for  her  mother's  help 
with  the  buttons.  Charles,  still  smarting,  drew  on  his  gloves 
with  an  effort  at  composure.  His  good  looks  were  empha- 
sized by  his  evening  clothes,  and  a  glimpse  he  caught  of  him- 
self in  the  gilt-framed  mirror  above  the  mantel  was  reassur- 


PHIL'S  FISTS  299 

ing.  He  picked  up  the  wrap  Phil  had  flung  on  the  chair,  and 
laid  it  over  her  shoulders,  while  Lois  stood  by,  her  finger-tips 
resting  on  the  back  of  a  chair.  If  she  lacked  in  the  essential 
qualities  of  a  lady,  he  at  least  could  be  a  gentleman;  and 
when  he  had  donned  his  overcoat,  he  bowed  over  her  hand, 
with  his  best  imitation  of  the  ambassadorial  elegance  which 
the  Honorable  Stewart  King  (son  of  Mrs.  John  Newman 
King)  had  brought  back  to  Montgomery  from  the  Belgian 
Court. 

"I'm  glad  to  have  had  this  opportunity,  Mrs.  Holton." 
"Not  a  word  to  Phil!"  The  slightest  inclination  of  her 
head,  a  compression  of  the  lips,  the  lifting  of  her  brows, 
suggested  that  the  most  prodigious  secrets  had  been  dis- 
cussed. She  was  quite  equal  to  rubbing  salt  in  the  wounds 
she  inflicted !  He  was  in  no  mood  for  a  discussion  of  sunshine 
and  shadow;  the  lecture  would  be  a  bore,  but  he  would  have 
an  hour  and  a  half  in  which  to  plan  revenge  upon  Mrs. 
Holton.  As  the  carriage  rattled  toward  Masonic  Hall,  Phil 
talked  gayly  of  the  afternoon's  tea. 

When  they  reached  the  hall  the  lecturer  was  just  walking 
onto  the  platform,  and  Charles  saw  with  elation  that  Phil 
and  he  shared  public  attention  with  the  orator.  As  they 
took  their  seats  there  was  much  craning  of  necks.  Lois's 
return  had  set  all  manner  of  rumors  afloat.  It  had  been  said 
that  she  had  come  back  to  keep  Phil  out  of  the  clutches  of 
the  Holtons;and  here  was  Phil  with  Charlie  Holton.  Glances 
of  surprise  were  exchanged.  It  was  plain  that  Lois  was  not 
interfering  with  Phil's  affairs.  Possibly  the  appearance  of 
the  two  just  now  had  a  special  significance.  It  was  tough  on 
Tom  Kirkwood,  though,  that  his  daughter  should  be  thrown 
in  the  way  of  a  son  of  the  House  of  Holton !  The  pastor  of 
Center  Church  introduced  the  lecturer  to  an  inattentive 
audience. 

At  the  end  there  was  the  usual  "visiting,"  and  Phil 
remained  perforce  to  take  her  part  in  it.  Phil  had  enjoyed 
the  lecture;  Phil  always  enjoyed  everything!  Charles, 


300  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

with  her  cloak  on  his  arm,  made  himself  agreeable  to  a  visit- 
ing girl  to  whom  Phil  entrusted  him  while  she  obeyed  a  com- 
mand from  Mrs.  King  to  meet  the  speaker. 

Wayland  Brown  Bayless  was  encircled  by  a  number  of 
leading  citizens  and  citizenesses.  Judge  Walters  was  in  the 
group,  and  Captain  Joshua  Wilson,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alec 
Waterman,  and  General  and  Mrs.  Wilks,  and  the  wife  of 
Congressman  Reynolds  —  representatives  of  Montgomery's 
oldest  and  best.  Phil  shook  hands  with  Wayland  Brown 
Bayless  and  told  him  she  was  glad  he  had  quoted  Shelley's 
"Skylark,"  her  favorite  poem,  whereupon  he  departed  hur- 
riedly to  catch  a  train.  It  was  then  that  Mrs.  King  took 
advantage  of  the  proximity  of  so  many  leading  citizens  and 
citizenesses,  who  had  just  heard  pessimism  routed  and  op- 
timism glorified,  to  address  Phil  in  that  resonant  tone  of 
authority  she  brought  to  all  occasions. 

"Phil,  how's  your  mother?" 

"Mamma's  very  well,  thank  you,  Mrs.  King." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  Lois  to  make  no  engagement  for 
Thursday  night  —  Thursday,  remember  —  as  I  want  her 
to  dine  with  me;  —  that  means  you  and  Amzi,  too.  The  Sir 
Edward  Gibberts,  who  made  the  Nile  trip  when  I  did  in  '72, 
are  on  their  way  home  from  Japan  and  are  stopping  off  to 
see  me.  Don't  forget  it's  Thursday,  Phil." 

It  was  all  Montgomery  she  addressed,  not  Phil,  as  Phil 
and  every  one  in  hearing  distance  understood  perfectly. 
Reduced  to  terms,  what  had  happened  was  this:  Mrs.  John 
Newman  King,  the  indisputable  social  censor  of  Montgom- 
ery, whose  husband,  etc.,  etc.,  was  "taking  up  "  Lois  Hoi  ton ! 
Not  since  that  April  afternoon  when  General  Wilks,  judge 
of  the  circuit  court,  left  the  bench  and  personally  beat  a 
drum  on  the  court-house  steps  to  summon  volunteers  to 
avenge  the  firing  upon  Sumter  had  anything  quite  touched 
the  dramatic  heights  of  this  incident.  And  Mrs.  King's  pew 
in  Center  Church  was  Number  2  on  the  middle  aisle ! 

Phil's  blood  tingled  and  her  eyes  filled.  Her  Aunt  Jose- 
phine flung  a  murderous  glance  at  her,  as  though  she  were 


PHIL'S  FISTS  301 

in  any  wise  responsible  for  the  vagaries  of  Mrs.  John  New- 
man King! 

The  gloomy  station  hack  was  waiting  at  the  door  when  she 
emerged  with  her  escort.  Charles  had  exerted  himself  to 
interest  the  visiting  girl  —  and  she  had  promised  to  call  him 
up  the  next  time  she  was  in  Indianapolis,  which  was  some 
compensation  for  the  banalities  of  the  lecture. 

"It's  a  fine  night;  let's  walk  home,"  said  Phil. 

Charles  discharged  the  hackman  without  debate.  His 
had  been  the  only  carriage  at  the  door,  except  Mrs.  King's 
ancient  coach,  and  he  felt  that  Phil  had  not  appreciated  his 
munificence.  The  remembrance  of  his  encounter  with  her 
mother  rankled,  and  as  he  thought  of  Fred's  rejection  of  his 
proposal  about  the  bonds  and  of  Kirkwood's  persistent, 
steady  stroke  in  the  traction  matter,  he  was  far  from  con- 
vinced by  the  lessons  of  the  lecture.  The  sight  of  Mont- 
gomery in  its  best  clothes,  showing  its  delight  in  optimism, 
had  only  aroused  his  contempt.  He  had  been  annoyed  by 
Phil's  manifestations  of  pleasure;  she  had  laughed  aloud  once 
at  a  story,  before  the  rest  of  the  audience  caught  the  point, 
and  he  felt  that  considerable  patient  labor  would  be  required 
to  smooth  out  Phil's  provincial  crudenesses. 

Phil's  spirits  soared.  The  world  was,  indeed,  a  good  place, 
and  full  of  charity  and  kindness.  Wayland  Brown  Bayless 
had  said  so;  Mrs.  John  Newman  King  had  done  much  to 
prove  it.  She  walked  from  the  hall  in  one  of  her  moods  of 
exaltation,  her  head  high. 

"I  apologize,  Phil;  I  had  no  idea  the  old  fellow  could  be 
such  a  bore.  I  heard  him  once  when  I  was  in  college  and 
thought  he  was  the  real  thing  —  and  it  was,  to  the  sopho- 
moric  taste." 

"Oh,  he's  a  perfect  dear!  Don't  you  dare  apologize!  And 
his  stories  were  perfectly  killing  —  all  new  to  me." 

"You  deserve  better  things,  Phil,  than  the  entertainments 
'this  town  affords.  You  were  destined  for  the  wider  world; 
I've  always  felt  that  about  you." 

He  had  forced  a  slower  pace  than  the  quick  step  with  which 


302  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Phil  had  set  out.  His  mind  was  working  busily.  Phil  was  an 
exceedingly  pretty  and  a  very  intelligent  girl,  and  it  would 
be  a  good  stroke  on  his  part  to  marry  her.  Amzi  would  un- 
doubtedly do  the  generous  thing  by  her.  He  had  made  his 
boast  to  Fred  —  and  why  not?  There  was  no  surer  way  of 
staying  Kirkwood's  hand  than  to  present  himself  as  the  af- 
fianced husband  of  the  lawyer's  daughter.  Phil's  mother  did 
not  matter,  after  all.  Kirkwood  would  probably  be  relieved 
to  find  that  Phil  had  been  rescued  from  a  woman  he  had 
every  reason  to  hate. 

"You  never  looked  so  well  as  you  did  to-night,  Phil.  I 
was  proud  of  you.  And  you  won't  mind  my  saying  it,  but 
it  was  fine  of  you  to  go  with  me  when  —  well,  you  know 
what  I  mean." 

Phil  knew  what  he  meant.   She  said :  — 

"  Fine,  nothing.  You  were  kind  to  ask  me  and  I  had  a  good 
time  every  minute." 

"  I  was  n't  sure  you'd  go.  Things  have  happened  queerly 
—  you  know  what  I  mean." 

Phil  knew  what  he  meant. 

"Oh,  don't  be  looking  for  queernesses;  we've  got  to  take 
things  as  they  come  along.  That 's  my  way  of  doing ;  and 
I  'm  more  than  ever  convinced  that  optimism  is  the  true 
doctrine." 

In  spite  of  herself  her  last  words  ended  a  little  dolo- 
rously. He  was  quick  to  seize  advantage  of  this  unfamiliar 
mood. 

"I  hope  you  know  that  any  trouble  that  may  come  to 
you  is  my  trouble,  too,  Phil.  Not  many  girls  would  have 
done  what  you  did  to-night.  No  other  girl  I  ever  knew  or 
read  of  would  have  taken  the  chance  of  stirring  up  gossip 
as  you  did  in  going  with  me.  It  was  splendid  and  heroic." 

" Pshaw!  I  don't  see  anything  heroic  in  going  to  a  lecture 
you  want  to  hear  if  a  kind  friend  offers  to  take  you.  Let's 
talk  of  something  else." 

"I  want  to  talk  about  you,  Phil." 

"Then  you'll  have  to  find  somebody  else  to  listen;  I 


PHIL'S  FISTS  303 

won't!    I  like  to  hear  about  interesting  things.    Now  don't 
feel  you  must  tell  me  I'm  a  fruitful  topic!" 

" I'm  serious  to-night.  I  have  n't  been  happy  lately.  I've 
had  a  lot  of  responsibilities  thrown  on  me  —  things  I  never 
knew  about  have  been  dumped  down  on  me  without  any 
warning.  I  was  tired  to  death  to-night,  and  I  can't  tell  you 
what  a  joy  it's  been  to  be  with  you.  I  was  n't  listening  to 
the  lecture ;  it  meant  nothing  to  me.  I  was  thinking  of  vou 
Phil." 

Phil  stopped  short.  The  senior  who  had  proposed  to  her 
had  employed  a  similar  prelude,  and  she  had  no  intention  of 
subjecting  herself  to  a  second  attack. 

"You  may  think  of  me  all  you  like;  but  don't  tell  me;  just 
let  me  guess.  It  is  n't  any  fun  if  you  know  people  think  of 
you.  We  expect  our  friends  to  think  of  us.  That 's  what  we 
have  them  for." 

She  started  off  more  briskly,  but  he  refused  to  accommo- 
date himself  to  her  pace.  The  undercurrent  of  resentment  in 
his  soul  gathered  force.  He  must  justify  his  boast  to  his 
brother,  for  one  thing;  and  for  another,  his  face  smarted 
from  her  mother's  light,  ironic  whip. 

"Phil!"  he  began  endearingly. 

"Oh,  come  on!  We  can't  stand  in  the  street  all  night  dis- 
cussing the  philosophy  of  life." 

"Since  that  afternoon  at  the  Run,"  he  continued,  as  they 
started  forward  again,  "everything  has  been  different  with 
me,  Phil.  I  never  felt  until  lately  that  I  really  wanted  to 
follow  my  good  inclinations:  I've  done  a  lot  of  things  I'm 
sorry  for,  but  that 's  all  over.  I  felt  that  day,  as  we  stood  to- 
gether at  the  top  of  the  bluff,  that  a  new  spirit  had  come  into 
my  life.  You  know  I'm  a  good  deal  older  than  you,  Phil 
-  just  about  ten  years'  difference;  but  you  seem  immensely 
older  and  wiser.  I  never  knew  a  woman  who  knew  as  much." 

She  stopped  again,  and  drew  away  from  him. 

"Mr.  Holton!"  she  ejaculated  mockingly;  "  please  don't 
try  that  kind  of  jollying  on  me.  I  don't  like  it." 

This,  uttered  with  sharp  peremptoriness",  did  not  soothe 


3o4  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

him ;  nor  was  he  in  any  humor  to  be  thwarted.  He  had  felt 
that  Phil  liked  him ;  and  a  great  many  girls  had  been  in  love 
with  him.  If  she  made  his  approaches  difficult,  there  was  the 
more  reason  for  believing  that  his  proposal  of  marriage  would 
not  fall  upon  ungrateful  ears.  And,  besides,  Phil  was  just  the 
sort  of  perverse,  willful  young  woman  to  jump  at  a  proposal, 
the  more  readily  if  the  suitor  was  set  apart  from  her  by 
barriers  that  invited  a  young  romantic  imagination. 

"  I  wasn't  jollying  you,"  he  said,  "and  you  know  I  wasn't. 
You've  known  from  the  first  that  I  admired  you.  In  fact, 
it  was  all  over  with  me  the  first  time  I  spoke  to  you  —  when 
you  took  me  down  so.  I  liked  your  spirit;  I  hate  these  tame, 
perfectly  conventional  girls;  they  bore  me  to  death." 

"Oh,  I  like  that!  How  dare  you  say  I'm  not  perfectly 
conventional!"  she  laughed. 

"You  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean.  You  have  a  mind 
and  will  of  your  own,  and  I  like  that  in  you.  You're  a  per- 
fect wonder,  Phil.  You're  the  most  fascinating  creature  in 
the  world!" 

"Creature!"  she  mocked. 

"Look  here,  Phil ;  I  don't  want  you  to  pick  me  up  like  that. 
I  'm  entitled  to  better  treatment.  I  'm  in  terrible  earnest  and 
I  don't  mean  to  be  put  off  in  any  such  way." 

"Well,  I  'm  not  afraid  to  walk  home  alone!"  She  made  a 
feint  at  leaving  him;  then  waited  for  him  to  catch  up  with 
her. 

It  had  been  said  of  Phil  that  she  liked  to  tease;  she  had, 
with  a  pardonable  joy,  made  the  high-school  boys  dance  to 
her  piping,  and  the  admiration  of  the  young  collegians  was 
tempered  with  awe  and  fear.  She  felt  herself  fully  equal  to 
any  emergencies  that  might  arise  with  young  men.  The  boys 
she  had  known  had  all  been  nice  fellows,  good  comrades,  with 
whom  she  had  entered  into  boyish  sports  zestfully,  until  her 
lengthening  skirts  had  excluded  her  from  participation  in 
town-ball  and  the  spring's  delight  in  marbles.  When  her 
chums  became  seniors  in  college  and  appeared  at  parties  in 
dress-suits,  the  transformation  struck  her  as  funny.  They 


PHIL'S  FISTS  305 

were  still  the  "boys"  who  had  admired  the  ease  with  which 
she  threw,  and  caught,  and  batted,  and  whom  she  had  bank- 
rupted in  naughty  games  of  chance  with  marbles.  She  liked 
Charles  Holton.  The  difference  in  their  years  added  to  the 
flattery  of  his  attentions.  He  was  a  practiced  flirt,  and  she 
had  made  experiments  of  her  own  in  the  gentle  art  of  flirta- 
tion. Phil  was  human. 

"  If  you  knew  how  depressed  I  am,  and  how  I  need  a  little 
sympathy  and  friendliness,  you  would  n't  act  like  that.  We 
are  good  friends,  are  n't  we?" 

"I  have  n't  questioned  it." 

"We  understand  each  other,  don't  we?" 

"In  the  plain  old  Hoosier  language,  yes!" 

"And  if  I  tell  you  out  of  the  depths  of  my  humility  that 
no  one  in  the  world  means  so  much  to  me  as  you  do,  you 
understand,  don't  you,  Phil?" 

"Certainly.  Your  words  are  admirably  chosen  and  we'll 
let  it  go  at  that." 

Her  flippancy  now  invited  rather  than  repelled  him.  It 
was  his  experience  that  girls  like  to  be  made  love  to;  the 
more  reluctant  they  appear,  the  better  they  like  it ;  and  as 
she  moved  along  beside  him  her  beauty,  her  splendid  health, 
her  audacity  struck  fire  in  him.  It  was  to-night  or  never  be- 
tween Phil  and  him.  His  to-morrows  were  uncertain;  there 
was  no  guessing  what  Kirkwood  might  do,  and  Phil  alone 
could  protect  and  save  him. 

"Phil,  this  whole  situation  here  is  an  impossible  one  for 
you.  Because  I  'm  older  I  realize  it  probably  more  than  you 
do.  First  it  was  my  Uncle  Jack  that  came  back  here  and 
stirred  things  up,  and  now  —  you  won't  take  it  unkindly  if 
I  say  that  your  mother's  return  has  been  most  unfortunate 
-  for  all  of  us.  A  girl  like  you  ought  n't  to  be  exposed  to  the 
gossip  of  a  country  town.  It 's  not  fair  to  you.  I  love  you, 
Phil ;  I  want  you  to  marry  me,  at  once,  the  quicker  the  better. 
I  want  to  take  you  away  from  all  this.  Phil  —  dear!" 

His  tone  thrilled  her;  she  was  persuaded  of  his  kindness 
and  generosity.  He  had  not  abused  her  mother  or  spoken 


306  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

unkindly  of  his  uncle  even.  He  had  shown  the  nicest  tact 
and  discretion  in  his  proposal  of  marriage,  hinting  at  his  own 
difficulties  without  attempting  to  play  upon  her  sympathies. 
She  could  not  laugh  it  off;  she  felt  no  inclination  to  do  so. 

"I'm  sorry,  Charlie;  I'm  awfully  sorry;  and  I  didn't 
want  you  to  go  on ;  I  really  did  n't  mean  to  let  you ;  I  tried  to 
stop  you.  I  respect  you  and  like  you;  but  I  don't  love  you. 
So  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  Now  we  must  hurry  home." 

They  were  quite  near  Amzi's  gate,  and  there  was  need  for 
urgency.  The  thought  of  her  mother  gave  him  an  angry 
throb;  very  likely  she  was  waiting  for  them. 

"You  don't  mean  that,  Phil!   I  can't  have  it  that  way." 

"  I  do  mean  just  that.  So  please  don't  say  any  more  about 
it;  we  won't  either  of  us  be  happier  for  talking  about  it." 

' '  That 's  not  square,  Phil.  You  knew  it  was  bound  to  come 
to  this.  You  let  me  go  on  believing,  hoping  —  " 

"If  you  think  such  things  of  me,  I  shall  be  sorry  I  ever 
saw  you." 

"  I  've  offered  you  a  way  out  for  yourself;  your  happiness 
is  at  stake.  You  must  get  away  from  here.  Let  us  get  mar- 
ried now  —  to-night,  and  leave  this  place  forever,  Phil!" 

"  No ! "  she  cried  angrily,  frightened  now  as  he  stopped  and 
planted  himself  before  her  at  the  edge  of  Amzi's  lawn,  where 
the  house  loomed  darkly  against  the  stars. 

He  gripped  her  arms.  In  all  her  rough  play  with  boys,  none 
had  ever  dared  to  touch  her,  and  she  choked  with  wrath. 
He  had  taken  her  off  guard.  Her  hands,  thrust  into  her 
muff,  were  imprisoned  there  by  his  grasp  of  her  arms. 

"Phil,  you  can't  leave  me  like  this.  You  've  got  to  say  yes. 
I'll  kill  myself  if  you  don't." 

She  tried  to  wrench  herself  free,  but  his  anger  had  slipped 
its  leash  and  was  running  away  with  him.  He  drew  her 
toward  him,  and  the  brute  in  him  roused  at  her  nearness. 
He  threw  an  arm  round  her  suddenly,  and  bent  to  kiss  her. 
Abruptly  she  flung  him  back,  wrenched  her  arms  free  and 
seized  his  wrists.  Her  fear  left  her  on  the  instant ;  she  was 
as  strong  or  stronger  than  he,  and  she  held  him  away  from 


PHIL'S  FISTS  3°7 

her  easily,  breathing  deeply,  and  wondering  just  how  to 
dispose  of  him.  She  laughed  mockingly  as  he  struggled,  con- 
fident in  the  security  of  her  greater  strength.  The  light  from 
Amzi's  gate-lamp  fell  upon  them,  and  she  peered  into  his 
face  curiously.  At  other  times  the  spectacle  of  a  gentleman 
in  a  silk  hat  held  at  ease  by  a  young  woman  in  her  best 
evening  bonnet  would  have  been  amusing,  but  Phil  was 
thoroughly  angry. 

"  I  did  n't  think  you  would  be  like  this.  I  thought  all  the 
time  that  you  were  a  man ;  I  even  thought  you  were  a  gentle- 
man!" 

He  jerked  back  in  an  effort  to  free  his  arms,  a  movement 
that  precipitated  his  hat  to  the  pavement.  She  gave  his 
wrists  a  wrench  that  caused  him  to  cry  out  in  pain.  To  be 
held  in  a  vise-like  grip  by  a  girl  he  had  tried  to  kiss  was  a  new 
and  disagreeable  experience.  His  anger  rioted  uncontrol- 
lably. He  brought  his  face  closer  and  sneered :  — 

"You  need  n't  take  such  grand  airs;  —  think  what  your 
mother  is!" 

She  flung  him  against  the  iron  fence  with  a  violence  that 
shook  it,  and  her  fists  beat  a  fierce  tattoo  on  his  face — white- 
gloved  fists,  driven  by  sound,  vigorous,  young  arms;  and 
then  as  he  cowered,  with  his  arms  raised  to  protect  himself 
from  her  blows,  she  stepped  back,  her  anger  and  contempt 
still  unsatisfied. 

He  lifted  his  head,  guardedly,  thinking  the  attack  was  over, 
and  with  a  quick  sweep  of  her  arm  she  struck  his  face  with 
her  open  hand,  a  sharp,  tingling  slap.  As  she  turned  toward 
the  gate,  her  foot  encountered  his  hat.  She  kicked  it  into  the 
street,  and  then,  without  looking  back,  swung  the  gate  open 
and  ran  up  the  path  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
MR.  WATERMAN'S  GREAT  OPPORTUNITY 

JACK  HOLTON  reappeared  in  Montgomery  toward  the  end 
of  March,  showed  himself  to  Main  Street  in  a  new  suit  of 
clothes,  intimated  to  old  friends  that  he  was  engaged  upon 
large  affairs,  and  complained  bitterly  to  a  group  of  idlers  at 
the  Morton  House  of  the  local-option  law  that  had  lately 
been  invoked  to  visit  upon  Montgomery  the  curse  of  per- 
petual thirst.  He  then  sought  Alexander  Waterman  in  that 
gentleman's  office.  Waterman  he  had  known  well  in  old 
times,  and  he  correctly  surmised  that  the  lawyer  was  far 
from  prosperous.  Men  who  married  into  the  Montgomery 
family  did  n't  prosper,  some  way!  An  assumption  that  they 
were  both  victims  of  daughters  of  the  House  of  Montgomery 
may  have  entered  into  his  choice  of  Waterman  as  a  likely 
person  to  precipitate  a  row  in  Sycamore  affairs.  It  was  with 
a  purpose  that  he  visited  Waterman's  office  on  the  Mill 
Street  side  of  the  court-house,  over  Redmond's  undertaking 
parlors  —  a  suggestive  proximity  that  had  not  been  neglected 
by  local  humorists. 

"This  is  your  chance,  old  man,  to  take  up  a  fight  for  the 
people  that  can't  fail  to  make  you  solid.  What  this  poor  old 
town  needs  is  a  leader.  They  're  all  sound  asleep,  dead  ones, 
who'd  turn  over  and  take  another  nap  if  Gabriel  blew  his 
horn.  These  fellows  are  getting  ready  to  put  over  the  neat- 
est little  swindle  ever  practiced  on  a  confiding  public.  The 
newspapers  are  in  it  —  absolutely  muzzled.  I  won't  lie  to 
you  about  my  motive  in  coming  to  you.  I  'm  sore  all  over 
from  the  knocks  I  've  got.  My  dear  brother  Will  has  kicked 
me  out;  actually  told  me  he'd  have  me  arrested  if  I  ever 
showed  up  here  again.  Like  a  fool  I  sent  word  to  Kirkwood 
that  I  could  be  of  service  in  getting  to  the  bottom  of  Syca- 


MR.  WATERMAN'S  OPPORTUNITY     309 

more ;  thought  he  'd  let  bygones  be  bygones  when  it  came  to 
straight  business,  but,  by  George,  he  did  n't  even  answer  my 
letter!  Cold  as  a  frozen  lobster,  and  always  was!  You  see 
I  thought  it  was  all  on  the  level  —  his  tinkering  with  the 
traction  company  — but  he's  in  on  the  shrewdest  piece  of 
high  finance  that  was  ever  put  over  in  Indiana.  Talk  about  my 
lamented  brother  Samuel — Sam  never  started  in  his  class!" 

Waterman,  with  his  ponderous  swivel-chair  tipped  back 
against  the  Indiana  Reports  that  lined  the  wall,  listened 
guardedly.  It  was  not  wholly  flattering  to  be  chosen  by  a 
man  of  Jack  Holton's  reputation  as  the  repository  of  confi- 
dences ;  but  things  had  been  going  badly  with  Waterman.  His 
passion  for  speculation  had  led  him  to  invest  funds  he  held 
as  guardian  in  pork  margins,  and  a  caprice  of  the  powers  that 
play  with  pork  in  Chicago  had  wiped  him  out.  Judge  Walters 
had  just  been  asking  impertinent  questions  about  the  guar- 
dianship money,  and  when  he  had  gone  to  the  First  National 
Bank  for  a  loan  to  tide  over  the  judicial  inquiry  and  avert 
an  appeal  to  his  bondsmen,  William  Holton  had  "called"  a 
loan  of  three  hundred  dollars  that  the  bank  had  been  carry- 
ing for  two  years.  This  was  very  annoying,  and  it  made  the 
lawyer  more  tolerant  of  Jack  Holton  than  he  should  other- 
wise have  been. 

"We're  talking  on  the  dead,  are  we?" 

Waterman  grunted  his  acquiescence. 

"Well,  Kirkwood  and  old  Amzi  have  framed  it  up  to  pinch 
the  small  Sycamore  stockholders.  Kirkwood  stands  in  with 
those  Eastern  fellows  who  have  the  big  end  of  it  —  he 's  their 
representative,  as  everybody  knows.  And  old  Amzi  is  gum- 
shoeing through  the  woods  buying  bonds  of  the  yaps  who 
shelled  out  to  Samuel  —  telling  them  the  company's  gone  to 
the  bad,  and  that  he's  the  poor  man's  friend,  anxious  to  as- 
sume their  burdens.  It 's  a  good  story,  all  right.  Of  course  he 
has  his  tip  from  Kirkwood  that  the  bonds  are  going  to  boom 
or  he  would  n't  be  putting  money  into  'em.  You  know  Amzi 
—  he 's  the  king  of  gumshoe  artists  —  and  he  and  Kirkwood 
are  bound  to  make  a  big  clean-up  out  of  this." 


310  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Waterman  was  interested.  He  had  always  disliked  Amzi. 
He  felt  that  the  banker  had  never  dealt  squarely  with  him, 
and  in  particular  the  peremptory  fashion  in  which  Amzi, 
seven  years  earlier,  had  pushed  his  pass-book  through  the 
window  and  suggested  that  he  take  his  account  elsewhere 
had  eaten  into  his  soul. 

"I  knew  somebody  was  picking  up  those  bonds,  but  I 
did  n't  know  it  was  Amzi.  One  of  my  clients  had  five  of  them, 
and  I  'd  got  him  to  the  point  of  letting  me  bring  suit  for  a 
receiver,  but  somebody  shut  him  off." 

"Your  client's  bonds  are  in  Kirkwood's  pocket,  all  right 
enough.  By  George,  can  you  beat  it!  And  here's  another 
thing.  A  man  hates  to  talk  against  his  own  flesh  and  blood ; 
and  you  may  think  I  'm  not  in  a  position  to  strut  around  vir- 
tuously and  talk  about  other  people's  sins ;  but  I  guess  I ' ve 
got  some  sense  of  honor  left.  I  've  never  stolen  any  money. 
I  did  run  off  with  another  man's  wife,  and  I  got  my  pay  for 
that.  That  was  in  the  ardor  of  youth,  Waterman;  it  was  a 
calamitous  mistake.  Nobody  knows  it  better  than  I  do.  I 
got  my  punishment.  I  don't  wish  the  woman  any  harm ;  she 's 
a  brazen  one,  and  don't  need  anybody's  sympathy." 

Lois  Montgomery  Holton's  brazenness  had  been  brought 
to  Waterman's  attention  convincingly  at  home.  Josephine, 
Kate,  and  Fanny  were  almost  insane  over  their  sister's  bold 
return.  Her  impudence  in  settling  herself  upon  Amzi,  under 
their  very  noses,  was  discussed  every  day  and  all  day  on 
Sunday,  whenever  Lois's  sisters  could  get  their  heads  to- 
gether. Waterman  felt  that  Jack  Holton's  direct  testimony 
as  to  the  brazenness  of  their  wicked  sister  would  be  grate- 
ful to  the  ears  of  his  wife  and  sisters-in-law. 

"I  guess,"  said  Waterman,  "that  has  n't  anything  to  do 
with  the  case.  If  what  you  say's  true  — " 

"Oh,  it's  true,  all  right  enough.  You  go  over  to  the 
'  Star '  office  and  ask  why  they ' ve  shut  up  about  Sycamore ; 
ask  Judge  Walters  why  certain  damage  suits  against  the 
Sycamore  Company  have  n't  been  tried;  go  out  among  the 
people  who  had  put  the  savings  of  years  into  the  traction 


MR.  WATERMAN'S  OPPORTUNITY     311 

company  and  ask  them  who 's  buying  their  bonds.  And  then, 
just  for  a  joke,  telegraph  the  Comptroller  at  Washington 
and  ask  him  why  he  sent  out  a  special  agent  of  the  Treasury 
to  look  over  the  First  National  after  the  examiner's  last  visit. 
I  tell  you,  this  town 's  going  to  have  a  big  jar  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  it's  just  about  up  to  you  to  get  out  among  the  people 
and  tell  'em  how  they're  being  worked." 

"The  people  like  being  worked,"  replied  Waterman,  who 
had  been  trying  to  bring  the  people  to  a  realizing  sense  of 
their  wrongs  in  every  campaign  for  twenty  years.  In  a  few 
months  they  would  again  be  choosing  a  Representative  in 
Congress  for  the  seat  he  had  long  coveted,  and  it  was  con- 
ceivable that  if  he  should  now  show  himself  valiant  in  their 
behalf  he  might  avert  his  usual  biennial  defeat.  It  was 
worth  considering. 

"The  thing  to  do  is  to  hold  a  mass  meeting  and  make  one 
of  your  big  speeches,  pitching  into  Walters  for  refusing  to 
bring  those  damage  suits  to  trial,  and  telling  the  truth  about 
what  Kirkwood  and  Amzi  are  doing,  and  then  go  over  to  In- 
dianapolis and  bring  suit  for  the  appointment  of  a  receiver. 
And,  by  the  way,  I  'm  not  as  altruistic  as  I  look.  I  '11  take  the 
receivership  and  you  '11  be  the  receiver's  attorney,  of  course. 
Between  us  we  ought  to  clear  up  something  handsome,  be- 
sides rendering  a  great  public  service  that  you  can  cash  in 
here  any  way  you  like." 

Only  that  day  Judge  Walters  had  granted  the  request  of 
Wright  and  Fitch,  the  Indianapolis  attorneys,  for  a  postpone- 
ment of  the  trial  of  a  damage  suit  against  the  Sycamore  Com- 
pany in  which  Waterman  represented  the  plaintiff,  and  this 
now  assumed  new  significance  in  the  lawyer's  mind.  If  he 
got  before  a  mass  meeting  with  a  chance  to  arraign  the  courts 
for  their  subservience  to  corporations,  he  was  confident  that 
it  would  redound  to  his  credit  at  the  fall  election.  His  af- 
fairs were  in  such  shape  that  some  such  miracle  as  his  elec- 
tion to  Congress  was  absolutely  necessary'  to  his  rehabilitation . 

"You  don't  think  the  First  National's  going  under,  do 
you?  Bill  is  n't  fool  enough  to  let  it  come  to  that?" 


312  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Holton  winked  knowingly  to  whet  his  auditor's  appetite. 

"  I  don't  think  it;  I  know  it!  Kirkwood  's  a  merciless  devil, 
and  he 's  got  Bill  and  my  hopeful  nephew  Charlie  where  the 
hair 's  short.  If  Sam  had  lived  he  'd  have  taken  care  of  this 
traction  business ;  Sam  was  a  genius,  all  right.  Sam  could  sell 
lemons  for  peaches,  and  when  people  made  faces  he  sugared 
the  lemons  and  proved  they  were  peaches.  Sam  was  no 
second-story  man ;  he  worked  on  the  ground  floor  in  broad 
daylight.  Good  old  Sam ! ' ' 

A  Chicago  newspaper  had  given  currency  to  a  rumor  that 
the  Sycamore  line  was  soon  to  be  put  into  the  hands  of  a  re- 
ceiver, and  while  Kirkwood  denied  this  promptly,  there  were 
many  disquieting  stories  afloat  as  to  the  fate  of  the  road. 

The  reports  of  an  expert  as  to  the  road's  physical  condi- 
tion had  been  reassuring,  on  the  whole,  and  a  thorough  audit 
had  placed  Kirkwood  in  possession  of  all  the  facts  as  to  the 
property  and  its  possibilities.  Some  of  the  most  prominent 
men  in  the  State  had  been  stockholders  in  the  Sanford 
Construction  Company.  Samuel  Holton  had  enrolled  in  that 
corporation  his  particular  intimates,  who  had  expected  him 
to  "take  care  of  them "  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing.  The 
list  included  several  former  state  officials  and  the  benevolent 
bosses  who  manipulated  the  legislature  by  a  perfectly  ad- 
justed bi-partisan  mechanism.  It  was  with  a  disagreeable 
shock  that  they  found  that  Samuel  had  departed  this  life, 
leaving  them  to  bear  the  burden  of  his  iniquities. 

Tom  Kirkwood  had  assembled  these  gentlemen  in  the 
inner  room  of  Wright  and  Fitch's  offices  and  laid  the  in- 
controvertible figures  before  them,  with  an  alternative  that 
they  return  their  respective  shares  of  the  plunder  or  answer 
to  an  action  at  law.  Kirkwood  was  an  absurd  person.  It 
was  politely  suggested  that  it  would  be  much  to  his  advan- 
tage to  allow  the  Sycamore  Company  to  take  its  course 
through  the  courts,  under  a  receiver  friendly  to  the  stock- 
holders of  the  Sanford  Construction  Company.  Kirkwood 
was  informed  that  things  had  always  been  done  that  way; 


MR.  WATERMAN'S  OPPORTUNITY     313 

but,  having  no  political  ambitions  or  ties,  he  was  little  im- 
pressed. It  seemed  to  the  business  politicians  weakminded  for 
a  man  who  had  "pull"  enough  to  secure  employment  from 
one  of  the  most  powerful  trust  companies  on  the  continent 
to  refuse  to  listen  to  "reason."  It  was  almost  incredible 
that  he  should  be  trying  to  save  the  road  instead  of  wrecking 
it,  when  there  was  no  money  to  be  made  out  of  saving  a 
trolley  line  that  had  been  marked  for  destruction  from  the 
day  its  first  tie  was  laid.  Kirkwood  smiled  coldly  upon  them 
and  their  attorneys  when  they  passed  from  persuasions  to 
threats.  It  was  difficult  to  find  an  effective  club  to  use  on 
a  man  who  was  so  unreasonable  as  to  threaten  them  with  the 
long  arm  of  the  grand  jury.  The  most  minute  scrutiny  of 
Kirkwood 's  private  life  failed  to  disclose  anything  that 
might  be  used  to  frighten  him. 

It  had  seemed  to  Kirkwood  that  the  beneficiaries  of  the 
construction  company  should  pay  into  the  Sycamore  treas- 
ury enough  money  to  repair  the  losses  occasioned  by  dishon- 
est work.  Interest  on  the  Sycamore  bonds  was  due  the  ist 
of  April .  The  November  payment  had  been  made  with  money 
advanced  by  half  a  dozen  country  banks  through  negotiations 
conducted  by  William  Holton.  On  the  day  that  Jack  Holton 
was  persuading  Alec  Waterman  to  thrust  himself  forward  as 
the  people's  protagonist,  Kirkwood  was  tightening  the  screws 
on  the  construction  company.  If  the  sum  he  demanded 
was  not  paid  by  the  ist  of  April,  he  assured  Samuel  Helton's 
former  allies  that  criminal  proceedings  would  be  instituted. 
As  one  of  the  construction  crowd  was  just  then  much  in  the 
newspapers  as  a  probable  nominee  for  a  state  office,  Kirk- 
wood's  determination  to  force  a  settlement  on  his  own  terms 
was  dismaying.  The  bi-partisan  bosses  had  figured  alto- 
gether too  much  in  the  newspapers,  and  it  was  not  pleasant 
to  contemplate  the  opening  of  the  books  of  the  company  to 
public  gaze. 

March  prepared  to  go  out  like  a  lion  in  Montgomery  that 
year.  While  Alec  Waterman  was  pondering  his  duty  to  the 
public  as  brought  to  his  attention  by  Jack  Holton,  Fate 


3H  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

seemed  to  take  charge  of  his  affairs.  On  March  28  the 
whistle  of  the  Sugar  Creek  Furniture  Company  failed  to 
rouse  the  town.  The  Sugar  Creek  Company,  one  of  the  in- 
dustries that  Paul  Fosdick  had  promoted,  had  seemed  to 
escape  the  dark  fate  that  had  pursued  his  other  projects, 
so  that  the  abruptness  with  which  it  shut  down  gave  the 
local  financial  seismograph  a  severe  wrench. 

The  factory  had  been  one  of  the  largest  employers  of 
labor  in  Montgomery,  and  its  suspension  was  reported  to  be 
due  to  the  refusal  of  the  First  National  to  advance  money  for 
its  next  maturing  weekly  pay-roll.  To  several  of  the  work- 
ingmen  who  consulted  Waterman  about  their  claims,  he 
broached  the  matter  of  a  mass  meeting  in  the  circuit  court- 
room to  discuss  the  business  conditions  of  Montgomery.  Two 
hundred  men  and  boys  were  thrown  out  of  work  by  the  fail- 
ure of  the  furniture  company ;  rumors  as  to  the  relations  be- 
tween the  company  and  the  First  National  caused  the  sta- 
bility of  the  Holton  bank  to  be  debated  guardedly ;  and  April 
1st  was  fixed  definitely  in  the  minds  of  the  Main  Street  gos- 
sips as  the  date  for  drastic  action  in  Sycamore  matters. 

Mr.  Amzi  Montgomery's  frequent  absences  in  Indiana- 
polis had  occasioned  comment  of  late.  He  returned,  how- 
ever, on  the  evening  of  the  28th,  and  before  the  "Bank  Open  " 
side  of  the  battered  tin  sign  was  presented  to  Main  Street 
on  the  morning  of  the  29th,  a  number  of  citizens  had  called 
to  ask  his  opinion  of  the  local  financial  conditions.  He 
answered  their  anxious  inquiries  with  his  habitual  non- 
chalance, leaning  against  the  counter,  with  his  cigar  at  an 
angle  that  testified  to  unruffled  serenity  and  perfect  peace 
with  the  world.  Amzi  had  brought  home  from  the  capital  a 
new  standing  collar,  taller  than  he  was  in  the  habit  of  wear- 
ing, and  from  its  deep  recesses  his  countenance  appeared 
more  than  usually  chaste  and  demure.  The  collar,  a  dashing 
bow  tie,  and  a  speckled  waistcoat  that  was  the  most  dar- 
ing expression  of  sartorial  art  available  at  the  capital,  gave 
to  Amzi  an  air  of  uncommon  jauntiness. 


MR.  WATERMAN'S  OPPORTUNITY     315 

"What  about  this,  Amzi?  Is  the  whole  town  going  to 
smash?"  asked  Judge  Walters. 

"Nope.   Worst's  over.    Nothing  to  worry  about." 

" I've  got  to  appoint  a  receiver  for  the  furniture  company 
in  a  few  minutes.  I  hope  I  'm  not  going  to  have  to  run  the 
whole  town  through  my  court." 

"You  won't.  The  Sugar  Creek  Furniture  Company  is  a 
year  behind  time;  I  thought  it  would  go  down  last  year. 
Then  they  bounced  Fosdick,  and  it  naturally  picked  up  a 
little;  but  it's  hard  to  overcome  a  bad  start,  Judge." 

"  I  Ve  politely  turned  over  my  court-room  for  a  meeting  of 
the  furniture  company  employees  this  afternoon.  Alec's 
going  to  holler ;  they  say  he 's  going  to  pitch  into  the  trac- 
tion company  and  dust  off  the  banks  and  capital  generally." 

"Good  for  Alec!  He'll  do  a  good  job  of  it.  Should  n't 
wonder  if  he  'd  lead  a  mob  down  Main  Street,  hanging 
all  the  merchants,  bankers,  and  judges  of  courts." 

"That  would  require  more  energy  than  Alec  has;  his  love 
of  the  downtrodden  is  purely  vocal." 

The  county  treasurer  who  followed  the  judge  found  Amzi 
disposed  to  be  facetious  over  the  reports  that  other  failures 
were  likely  to  follow  the  embarrassment  of  the  furniture 
company. 

"Worst 's  over.  Just  a  little  flurry.  When  there 's  a  rotten 
apple  in  the  barrel,  better  get  it  out." 

The  treasurer  jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
First  National. 

Amzi  met  his  gaze,  took  the  cigar  from  his  mouth,  and 
looked  at  the  ash. 

"Thunder!   It's  all  right." 

"How  do  you  know  that!" 

"I  just  guess  it;  that's  all." 

"They  say,"  the  treasurer  whispered,   "that  Bill  has 

skipped." 

"Bill 's  over  there  in  his  bank  right  now,    Amzi  replied 

impatiently. 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?" 


316  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"  Because  I  was  talking  to  him  on  the  'phone  ten  minutes 
ago.  If  he 's  skipped,  it  must  have  been  sudden.  Tell  peo- 
ple not  to  borrow  trouble  when  they  can  borrow  money. 
Money 's  easy  on  Main  Street." 

Amzi  wobbled  his  cigar  in  his  mouth  the  while  he  smoothed 
his  new  waistcoat  with  both  hands.  He  was  feeling  good. 
His  house  was  in  order;  failures  and  rumors  of  failures 
could  not  disturb  him. 

This  was  Saturday,  and  their  spring  needs  had  brought 
an  unusual  number  of  farm-folk  to  town.  The  proximity  of 
interest-paying  day  made  an  acute  issue  of  Sycamore 
Traction.  Amzi  had  by  no  means  gathered  up  all  the  bonds 
held  by  small  investors.  Book  learning  has  not  diminished 
the  husbandman's  traditional  incredulity:  if  Sycamore 
traction  bonds  were  worth  seventy  to  Amzi  Montgomery, 
they  were  undoubtedly  worth  eighty,  at  least,  to  the  con- 
fiding original  purchasers.  Those  who  had  clung  to  their 
bonds  were  disposed  to  ridicule  those  who  had  sold;  and 
yet  no  one  was  wholly  comfortable,  either  way.  The  col- 
lapse of  the  furniture  company  might  prelude  a  local  panic, 
and  farmers  and  country  merchants  collected  in  groups 
along  Main  Street  to  discuss  the  situation. 

The  Saturday  half-holiday  in  the  various  Montgomery 
industries  added  to  the  crowd  that  drifted  toward  the  court- 
house at  two  o'clock,  drawn  by  the  announcement  that  Alec 
Waterman  was  to  discuss  many  local  issues,  which  the  fail- 
ure of  the  furniture  company  had  rendered  acute.  The 
circuit  court-room  was  packed  with  farmers,  mechanics,  and 
the  usual  idlers  when  Waterman  without  introduction  began 
to  speak. 

At  that  moment  Amzi  Montgomery,  in  his  seersucker 
coat  and  with  his  old  straw  hat  tilted  to  one  side,  stood  at 
the  door  of  his  bank  and  observed  half  a  dozen  men  on  the 
steps  of  the  First  National.  Amzi,  a  careful  student  of  his 
fellow-townsmen,  was  aware  that  men  and  women  were 
passing  into  the  rival  bank  in  larger  numbers  than  usual, 
even  for  a  Saturday,  and  that  the  mellifluous  oratory  of 


MR.  WATERMAN'S  OPPORTUNITY     317 

Alec  Waterman  had  not  drawn  from  the  First  National 
corner  a  score  of  idlers  who  evidently  felt  that  the  center  of 
interest  lay  there  rather  than  at  the  court-house.  Amzi 
planted  himself  in  his  favorite  chair  in  the  bank  window  and 
watched  the  crowd  increase. 

By  half-past  two  the  town  marshal  had  taken  official 
notice  that  citizens  were  gathering  about  the  bank  doors, 
and  overflowing  from  the  sidewalk  halfway  across  Main 
Street,  to  the  interruption  of  traffic.  Women  and  girls,  with 
bank-books  in  their  hands  or  nervously  fingering  checks, 
conferred  in  low  tones  about  the  security  of  their  deposits. 
.The  Citizens'  National  and  the  State  Trust  Company  were 
also  receiving  attention  from  their  depositors.  As  three 
o'clock  approached,  the  Montgomery  Bank  filled,  and  the 
receiving-teller  began  to  assist  the  paying-teller  in  cashing 
checks.  Amzi  lounged  along  the  lines  outside,  talking  to  his 
customers. 

"Going  to  buy  automobiles  with  your  money,  boys? 
Thunder!  You  in  town,  Jake?" 

He  greeted  them  all  affably,  ignoring  their  anxiety. 

"Boys,  I'll  have  to  get  a  new  shop  if  business  keeps  on 
like  this." 

A  depositor  who  had  drawn  his  money  and  was  anxiously 
hiding  it  in  his  pocket,  dropped  a  silver  dollar  that  rolled 
away  between  the  waiting  lines. 

"Never  mind,  gentlemen,  we  sweep  out  every  night," 
said  Amzi.  " Now,  let's  all  understand  each  other,"  he  con- 
tinued, tilting  his  hat  over  his  left  ear,  and  nourishing  his 
cigar.  "It's  all  right  for  you  folks  to  come  and  get  your 
money.  The  regular  closing  time  of  banks  in  this  town  is 
3  P.M.,  Saturdays  included.  We've  got  a  right  to  close  in 
fifteen  minutes.  But  just  to  show  there's  no  hard  feeling, 
I  'm  going  to  change  the  closing  hour  to-day  from  3  P.M.  to 
3A.M.  Tomorrow's  Sunday,  and  you  can  tell  folks  that's 
got  money  here  that  they  won't  have  any  trouble  getting 
their  change  in  time  to  put  it  in  the  collection  basket  to- 
morrow morning." 


3i 8  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

A  number  of  depositors,  impressed  by  Amzi's  tranquillity, 
tore  up  their  checks  and  left  the  bank.  To  a  woman  who 
asked  him  what  the  excitement  meant,  Amzi  explained 
politely  that  the  town  was  experiencing  what  he  called  a 
"baby  panic." 

"As  an  old  friend,  Martha,  I  advise  you  to  leave  your 
money  here;  if  I  decide  to  bust,  I'll  give  you  notice." 

Along  the  two  lines,  that  now  extended  out  upon  the  side- 
walk, there  was  a  craning  of  necks.  A  demand  from  one  de- 
positor that  he  repeat  to  all  what  he  had  said  to  the  woman 
caused  Amzi  to  retire  behind  the  counter.  There  he  stood 
upon  a  chair  and  talked  through  the  screen, 

"I  don't  blame  you  folks  for  being  nervous.  Nobody 
wants  to  lose  his  money.  Money  is  hard  to  get  and  harder 
to  keep.  But  I  've  never  lied  across  this  counter  to  any  man, 
woman,  or  child"  —  and  then,  as  though  ashamed  of  this 
vulgar  assertion  of  rectitude,  he  added  —  "unless  they 
needed  to  be  lied  to." 

There  was  laughter  at  this.  The  room  was  packed,  and 
the  lines  had  been  broken  by  the  crowd  surging  in  from  the 
street. 

"You  can  all  have  your  money.  But  I  hope  you  won't 
spend  it  foolishly  or  stick  it  in  the  chimney  at  home  where 
it'll  burn  up.  I  ain't  going  to  bust,  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
This  town  is  all  right;  it's  the  best  little  town  in  Indiana; 
sound  as  Sugar  Creek  bottom  corn.  This  little  sick  infant 
panic  we  've  had  to-day  will  turn  over  and  go  to  sleep  pretty 
soon.  As  an  old  friend  and  neighbor  of  you  all,  I  advise 
you  to  go  home  —  with  your  money  or  without  it,  just 
as  you  like.  It 's  all  the  same  to  me." 

"How  about  the  First  National?"  a  voice  demanded. 

Amzi  was  relighting  his  cigar.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 
commotion  in  the  room  as  many  who  had  been  pressing  toward 
the  windows  withdrew,  reassured  by  the  banker's  speech. 

Amzi,  with  one  foot  on  a  chair,  the  other  on  the  note- 
teller's  counter,  listened  while  the  question  about  the  First 
National  was  repeated. 


MR.  WATERMAN'S  OPPORTUNITY     319 

"I'll  say  to  you  folks,"  said  Amzi,  his  voice  clearing  and 
rising  to  a  shrill  pipe,  "that  in  my  judgment  the  First  Na- 
tional Bank  can  pay  all  its  claims.  In  fact — in  fact,  I'm 
dead  sure  of  it!" 

The  crowd  began  to  disperse.  Most  of  those  who  had 
drawn  their  money  waited  to  re-deposit  it,  and  Amzi 
walked  out  upon  the  step  to  view  the  situation  at  the  First 
National,  to  whose  doors  a  great  throng  clung  stubbornly. 
The  marshal  and  a  policeman  were  busily  occupied  in  an 
effort  to  keep  a  way  open  for  traffic.  Observed  by  only  a  few 
idlers,  Tom  Kirkwood  emerged  from  the  First  National's 
directors'  room  and  walked  across  to  where  Amzi  stood  like 
a  guardian  angel  before  the  door  of  Montgomery's  Bank. 
The  briefest  colloquy  followed  between  Kirkwood  and  his 
quondam  brother-in-law. 

"It's  fixed,  Amzi." 

"Thunder,  Tom;  I  did  n't  know  you'd  got  back." 

"Got  in  at  one,  and  have  been  shut  up  with  Holton  ever 
since.  He's  seen  the  light,  and  we've  adjusted  his  end  of  the 
Sycamore  business;  I'm  taking  part  cash  and  notes  with 
good  collateral.  The  whole  construction  crowd  have  settled, 
except  Charlie,  and  he'll  come  in  —  he's  got  to.  The  settle- 
ment makes  the  traction  company  good —  it's  only  a  matter 
now  of  spending  the  money  we  've  got  back  in  putting  the 
property  in  shape." 

"That 's  good,  Tom."  And  Amzi  looked  toward  the  court- 
house clock.  " Bill  say  anything  about  me?" 

"Yes ;  he  most  certainly  did.  He  wants  you  to  go  over  and 
take  charge  of  his  bank!  " 

"Thunder!  It's  sort  o'  funny,  Tom,  how  things  come 
round." 

Kirkwood  smiled  at  Amzi's  calmness.  He  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  folded  piece  of  paper. 

"Here's  your  stock  certificate,  Amzi.  Bill  asked  me  to 
hand  it  to  you.  It's  in  due  form.  He  wanted  me  to  ask  you 
to  be  as  easy  on  him  as  you  could.  I  think  what  he  meant 
was  that  he  'd  like  it  to  look  like  a  bona-fide,  voluntary  sale. 


320  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Those  ten  shares  give  you  the  control,  and  the  Sycamore 
claim  wiped  out  the  rest  of  his  holdings.  I'm  afraid,"  he 
added,  "there's  going  to  be  some  trouble.  Where's  Phil?" 
"Probably  at  the  court-house  hearing  her  Uncle  Alec 
talk  about  the  money  devils.  We  ought  to  let  a  few  banks 
bust,  just  to  encourage  Alec.  Thunder!  Phil's  all  right!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PLEASANT  TIMES   IN  MAIN   STREET 

PHIL,  on  her  way  to  a  tea,  reached  Main  Street  shortly 
before  three  o'clock.  Her  forehandedness  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  her  hostess  (the  wife  of  the  college  president)  had 
asked  her  to  perform  divers  and  sundry  preliminary  offices 
pertaining  to  refreshments,  and  it  had  occurred  to  Phil  that 
it  would  be  as  well  to  drop  in  at  the  Bartletts'  to  see  whether 
Rose  had  sent  the  cakes  she  had  contracted  to  bake  for  the 
function,  as  the  sophomore  who  delivered  Rose's  creations 
was  probably  amusing  himself  at  the  try-out  of  baseball 
material  on  Mill's  Field. 

Shopkeepers  restlessly  pacing  the  sidewalk  before  the 
doors  of  their  neglected  stores  informed  Phil  of  the  meeting 
at  the  court-room,  and  of  the  panicky  rumors.  No  good 
reason  occurred  to  Phil  for  absenting  herself  from  a  mass 
meeting  at  which  her  Uncle  Alec  was  to  speak.  Phil  liked 
meetings.  From  the  crest  of  a  stack  of  chicken  crates  near 
the  freight  depot  she  had  heard  Albert  Jeremiah  Beveridge 
speak  when  that  statesman  had  vouchsafed  ten  minutes  to 
the  people  of  Montgomery  the  preceding  autumn.  She  had 
heard  such  redoubtable  orators  as  William  Jennings  Bryan, 
Charles  Warren  Fairbanks,  and  "Tom"  Marshall,  and 
when  a  Socialist  had  spoken  from  the  court-house  steps  on  a 
rainy  evening,  Phil,  then  in  her  last  year  in  high  school,  had 
been  the  sole  representative  of  her  sex  in  the  audience. 

Waterman  was  laboriously  approaching  his  peroration 
when  she  reached  the  packed  court-room.  Men  were  wedged 
tightly  into  the  space  reserved  for  the  court  officials  and  the 
bar,  and  a  number  stood  on  the  clerk's  desk.  She  climbed 
upon  a  chair  at  the  back  of  the  room,  the  better  to  see  and 
hear.  There  were  other  women  and  girls  present  —  em- 


322  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

ployees  of  the  furniture  factory  —  but  it  must  be  confessed 
that  even  without  their  support  Phil  would  not  have  been 
embarrassed. 

Waterman  was  in  fine  fettle,  and  cheers  and  applause 
punctuated  his  discourse. 

"I  am  not  here  to  arouse  class  hatred, or  to  set  one  man 
against  another.  We  of  Montgomery  are  all  friends  and 
neighbors.  Many  of  you  have  lived  here,  just  as  I  have, 
throughout  your  lives.  It  is  for  us  to  help  each  other  in  a 
neighborly  spirit.  Factories  may  close  their  doors,  banks 
may  fail,  and  credit  be  shaken,  but  so  long  as  we  may  appeal 
to  each  other  in  the  old .  terms  of  neighborliness  and  com- 
radeship, nothing  can  seriously  disturb  our  peace  and  pros- 
perity. 

"It  grieves  me,  however,  to  be  obliged  to  confess  that 
there  are  men  among  us  who  have  not  felt  the  responsibility 
imposed  upon  them  as  trustees  for  the  less  fortunate.  I  have 
already  touched  on  the  immediate  plight  of  those  of  you 
who  are  thrown  out  of  employment,  with  your  just  labor 
claims  unpaid.  There  are  others  —  and  some  of  them  are 
perhaps  in  this  room  —  who  entrusted  their  savings  to  the 
Sycamore  Traction  Company,  and  who  are  now  at  the  mercy 
of  the  malevolent  powers  that  invariably  control  and  man- 
ipulate such  corporations.  I  shall  not  be  personal ;  I  have  no 
feelings  against  any  of  those  men.  But  I  say  to  you,  men  and 
women  of  Montgomery,  that  when  I  heard  this  morning 
from  the  lips  of  an  industrious  and  frugal  German  mechanic 
that  a  certain  financier  of  this  town  had  bought  from  him  a 
traction  bond  that  represented  twenty  years  of  savings  — 
then  my  blood  boiled  with  righteous  indignation. 

"My  friends,  a  curious  situation  exists  here.  Why  is  it  — 
why  is  it,  I  repeat,  while  one  of  our  fellow-citizens  pretends 
to  be  trying  to  safeguard  by  legal  means  all  the  local  inter- 
ests involved  in  that  traction  company,  another  person  who 
stands  close  to  him  is  buying  the  bonds  of  laborers  and 
mechanics,  widows  and  orphans,  at  little  more  than  fifty  per 
cent  of  their  face  value?  My  friends,  when  you  find  a  corrupt 


PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET    323 

lawyer  and  a  rapacious  banker  in  collusion,  what  chance 
have  the  people  against  them?" 

Apparently  the  people  had  no  chance  whatever,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  intent  auditors.  The  applause  at  this  point 
was  long  continued,  and  Waterman,  feeling  that  he  had 
struck  the  right  chord,  hurried  on. 

"Who  are  these  men  who  have  plundered  their  own 
people,  thrust  their  hands  into  the  pockets  of  their  fellow- 
citizens,  and  niched  from  them  the  savings  of  years?  Who 
are  they,  I  say?  My  friends,  in  a  community  like  this,  where 
we  are  all  so  closely  knit  together,  — where  on  the  Sabbath 
day  we  meet  in  the  church  porch  after  rendering  thanks 
unto  God  for  his  mercies,  —  where  in  the  midweek  prayer- 
meeting  we  renew  and  strengthen  ourselves  for  the  battle  of 
life,  —  it  is  a  serious  matter  to  stand  in  a  forum  of  the  people 
before  the  tabernacle  the  law  has  given  us  for  the  defense 
of  our  liberties,  and  impugn  the  motives  of  our  fellows.  I 
shall  not  — " 

"Name  them!"  chorused  a  dozen  voices. 

Waterman's  histrionic  sense  responded  to  the  demand. 
With  arm  uplifted,  he  deliberated,  turning  slowly  from  side 
to  side.  He  was  a  master  of  the  niceties  of  insinuation.  In- 
nuendo he  had  always  found  more  effective  than  direct  state- 
ment. He  shook  his  head  deprecatingly,  reluctant  to  yield 
to  the  clamor  for  the  names  of  the  human  vultures  he  had 
been  arraigning. 

"Name  them!  Tell  who  they  are!" 

He  indulged  these  cries  with  a  smile  of  resignation.  They 
had  a  right  to  know;  but  it  was  left  for  him,  in  his  superior 
wisdom,  to  pass  upon  their  demands. 

"Hit  'em,  Alec!  Go  for  'em!"  yelled  a  man  in  the  front 
row. 

"Why,"  the  orator  resumed,  "why,"  he  asked,  "should 
I  name  names  that  are  in  every  mind  in  this  intelligent  audi- 
ence?" There  was  absolute  quiet  as  they  waited  for  the 
names,  which  he  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  giving. 
"Why—" 


324  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Coward!" 

The  carrying  power  of  Phil's  voice  had  been  deplored 
from  her  earliest  youth  by  her  aunts.  Her  single  word, 
flung  across  the  heads  of  the  auditors,  splashed  upon  the 
tense  silence  like  a  stone  dropped  suddenly  into  a  quiet  pond. 

"Put  him  out!"  yelled  some  one  who  attributed  this  im- 
piety to  the  usual  obstreperous  boy.  A  number  of  young 
fellows  in  Phil's  neighborhood,  who  knew  the  source  of  the 
ejaculation,  broke  into  laughter  and  jeers.  Alexander  Water- 
man knew  that  voice;  he  had  seen  Phil  across  the  room,  but 
had  assumed  that  her  presence  was  due  to  her  vulgar  curios- 
ity, on  which  his  wife  had  waxed  wroth  these  many  years. 
In  his  cogitations  Phil  was  always  an  unaccountable  and 
irresponsible  being:  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  she 
might  resent  his  veiled  charges  against  her  father  and  Amzi. 
Waterman,  by  reason  of  his  long  experience  as  a  stump 
speaker,  knew  how  to  deal  with  interruptions.  He  caught  up 
instantly  the  challenge  Phil  had  flung  at  him. 

"Coward?"  he  repeated.  "I  should  like  to  ask  you,  my 
fellow-citizens,  who  is  the  coward  in  this  crisis?  Is  it  I,  who 
face  you  to-day  clothed  in  my  constitutional  guaranty  of 
free  and  untrammeled  speech,  to  speak  upon  the  issues  of 
this  grave  crisis ;  or  is  it  the  conspirators  who  meet  in  dark 
rooms  to  plot  and  plunder?" 

Applause  and  cheers  greeted  this  reply.  Men  looked  at 
each  other  and  grinned,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Alec  knows  his 
business. "  In  Phil's  immediate  vicinity  a  number  of  young 
men,  lost  in  admiration  of  her  temerity,  and  not  without 
chivalrous  instincts,  jeered  the  orator's  reply.  In  the  middle 
of  the  room  Fred  Holton,  who  had  gone  to  the  meeting  with 
some  of  his  farmer  neighbors  that  he  met  in  Main  Street, 
turned  at  the  sound  of  Phil's  voice.  Before  Waterman,  luxu- 
riating in  his  applause,  could  resume,  Fred  was  on  his 
feet. 

"As  this  was  called  as  a  meeting  of  citizens,  I  have  a  right 
to  be  here.  We  have  listened  for  nearly  an  hour  to  a  speech 
that  has  made  nothing  any  clearer  —  that  has,  in  fact,  gone 


PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET    325 

all  round  the  pump  without  finding  the  handle.  It  's  time 
we  knew  what  it  is  the  speaker  wants  done;  it's  time  he 
came  to  the  point  and  named  these  men  who  have  robbed 
their  friends  and  neighbors.  Let 's  have  the  names  right  now 
before  we  go  any  further." 

"Who 's  that  talking?  Put  him  out!" 

The  meeting  was  in  disorder,  and  a  dozen  men  were  trying 
to  talk.  Waterman,  smiling  patiently,  rapped  with  the  offi- 
cial gavel  that  Judge  Walters  wielded  when  counsel,  in  the 
heat  of  argument,  transcended  the  bounds  of  propriety. 

"It 's  Fred  Holton,"  bellowed  some  one. 

Waterman  smiled  in  quiet  scorn.  He  had  recognized  Fred 
Holton  and  was  ready  with  his  answer.  One  of  his  friends 
who  had  pushed  through  the  crowd  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"My  friends,"  he  began,  in  the  indulgent  tone  of  a  grieved 
parent,  "  the  gentleman  who  spoke  a  moment  ago  was  quite 
right  in  remarking  that  this  is  a  meeting  of  citizens.  No  one 
denies  his  right  to  speak  or  to  interrupt  other  speakers  if 
such  be  his  idea  of  courtesy.  But  he  will  pardon  me  for  sug- 
gesting that  it  is  remarkable  that  he  of  all  men  should  in- 
terrupt our  friendly  conference  here  and  demand  that  names 
be  mentioned,  when,  prompted  by  a  sense  of  delicacy,  I  have 
refrained  from  mentioning  his  own  name  in  this  unpleasant 
connection.  It 's  a  name  that  has  been  identified  far  too 
closely  with  the  affairs  of  this  town.  I  should  like  to  know 
how  a  member  of  the  Holton  family  dare  come  to  this  meet- 
ing, when  the  suspension  of  one  of  our  chief  industries  and 
the  embarrassments  of  the  Sycamore  Traction  Company 
are  directly  attributable  to  the  family  of  which  this  young 
gentleman  is  a  member.  And  while  we  sit  here  in  conference, 
there  are  grave  rumors  afloat  that  we  are  threatened  with 
even  more  serious  difficulties.  Within  a  few  minutes  word 
has  reached  me  that  a  run  is  in  progress  upon  certain  of  our 
banks."  (There  was  a  commotion  throughout  the  room,  and 
those  near  the  doors  were  already  pushing  toward  the  street.) 
"I  beg  of  you,  be  not  hasty;  the  hour  calls  for  wise  coun- 
sel—" 


326  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

The  shuffling  of  feet  and  overturning  of  chairs  deadened 
the  remainder  of  his  speech. 

Phil  escaped  quickly  from  the  court-house,  and  seeing  the 
throng  in  Main  Street  began  a  detour  to  reach  Montgomery's 
Bank.  Fred  caught  up  with  her  and  begged  her  to  go  home. 

"There  's  going  to  be  a  row,  Phil,  and  you  'd  better  keep 
out  of  the  way." 

"If  there  's  a  row,  that  silly  Waterman  is  responsible," 
Phil  replied.  "I'm  going  to  the  bank  to  see  Amy." 

People  were  flocking  to  Main  Street  from  all  directions, 
and  finding  that  she  persisted  in  going  on,  Fred  kept  close 
beside  her. 

"He'll  scold  you  if  you  do;  you'd  better  go  home,"  Fred 
urged  as  they  reached  Franklin  Street,  a  block  south  of 
Main,  and  saw  the  packed  streets  at  the  First  National 
corner. 

They  debated  a  moment ;  then  Phil  was  seized  with  an 
idea. 

"Fred,  run  over  to  the  college  and  bring  all  the  boys  you 
can  find  at  Mill's  Field.  Bring  them  up  Main  Street  singing, 
and  send  a  flying  wedge  through  the  mob;  —  that  will  smash 
it.  Beat  it,  before  the  boys  hear  the  row  and  mix  in!" 

Fred  was  off  for  the  athletic  field  before  she  had  finished 
speaking,  and  Phil  sought  the  side  door  of  Montgomery's 
Bank. 

The  throng  at  the  intersection  of  Franklin  Street  and 
Main  faced  the  First  National.  When  the  court-house  clock 
boomed  three  the  clerks  inside  made  an  effort  to  close  the 
doors,  and  this  had  provoked  a  sharp  encounter  with  the 
waiting  depositors  on  the  bank  steps.  The  crowd  yelled  as  it 
surged  in  sympathy  with  the  effort  to  hold  the  doors  open. 
Some  one  threw  a  stone  that  struck  the  window  in  the 
middle  of  "National"  in  the  sign,  and  this  caused  an  out- 
break of  derisive  cheers.  An  intoxicated  man  on  the  steps 
turned  round  with  difficulty  and  waved  his  hat. 

"Come  on,  boys;  we'll  bust  the  safe  and  find  out  whether 
they  Ve  got  any  money  or  not." 


PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET    327 

Some  of  those  who  had  gained  entrance  to  the  bank  came 
out  by  the  side  door,  and  this  served  to  divert  attention  to 
Franklin  Street  for  a  moment.  There  were  cries  that  a 
woman  who  had  received  her  money  had  been  robbed,  and 
this  increased  the  uproar. 

When  Amzi  took  a  last  survey  from  his  bank  steps  at 
three  o'clock,  some  one  yelled,  "Hello,  Amzi!"  A  piece  of 
brick  flung  with  an  aim  worthy  of  a  nobler  cause  whizzed 
past  his  head  and  struck  the  door- frame  with  a  sharp  thwack 
and  blur  of  dust.  Amzi  looked  down  at  the  missile  with 
pained  surprise  and  kicked  it  aside.  His  clerks  besought  him 
to  come  in  out  of  harm's  way;  and  yet  no  man  in  Mont- 
gomery had  established  a  better  right  than  he  to  stand 
exactly  where  he  stood  and  view  contemporaneous  history 
in  the  making. 

Howls  and  cat-calls  followed  the  casting  of  the  brick. 
Amzi  lifted  his  hand  to  stay  the  tumult,  but  in  his  seer- 
sucker coat  and  straw  hat  his  appearance  was  calculated  to 
provoke  merriment. 

"Shoot  the  hat!  Where  's  your  earmuffs?"  they  jeered. 

He  could  not  make  himself  heard,  and  even  if  his  voice 
had  been  equal  to  the  occasion  no  one  was  in  humor  to 
listen  to  him.  Bankers  were  unpopular  in  Montgomery  that 
afternoon.  No  one  had  ever  believed  before  that  Amzi  was 
capable  of  taking  unfair  advantage  of  his  fellow-men:  and 
yet  Waterman's  hearers  were  circulating  the  report  in  Main 
Street  that  Amzi  had  been  buying  Sycamore  bonds  at  an 
infamously  low  price. 

He  flourished  his  cigar  toward  the  First  National,  and  then 
pointed  it  at  his  own  door,  but  this  bit  of  pantomime  only 
renewed  the  mirth  of  the  assemblage.  It  seemed  to  be  the  im- 
pression that  he  was  trying  to  advertise  his  bank,  in  the  fash- 
ion of  a  "demonstrator"  in  a  shop-window.  The  disorder 
increased.  Some  one  yelled :  — 

"What  are  you  paying  for  Sycamore  bonds?" 

This  was  followed  by  an  ominous  turning  and  shifting. 
Amzi  withdrew,  closed  and  locked  the  bank  doors,  and 


328  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

showed  his  scorn  of  his  calumniators  by  reversing  with 
deliberation  the  tin  card  so  that  it  announced  "Bank  Shut." 

Amzi,  his  dignity  ruffled  by  the  reception  accorded  him, 
had  retired  to  his  private  room  when  a  familiar  knock 
sounded  on  the  Franklin  Street  door  and  he  turned  the 
latch  to  admit  Phil. 

"You—!  what  you  doing  down  here?  What  right  have 
you  to  be  running  the  streets  on  a  day  like  this?  "  he  blurted, 
his  eyes  bulging  wrathfully. 

"Oh,  chuck  it,  Amy!  This  is  the  best  show  we've  had 
since  the  calliope  blew  up  and  killed  the  elephant  in  the 
circus  when  I  was  seven  years  old.  I  've  been  to  the  meeting. 
The  Honorable  Alec  delivered  a  noble  oration ;  he  told  them 
that  everybody,  including  you  and  daddy,  is  crooked;  he's 
the  only  honest  man.  It  was  the  supreme  and  ultimate 
lirm'te/" 

"Want  to  burn  me  in  effigy?  Call  me  a  horned  pluto- 
crat?" 

"Oh,  he  did  n't  mention  you,  or  daddy  either,  by  name; 
just  hinted  that  you  were  both  trying  to  rob  the  Sycamore 
bondholders." 

Amzi  put  his  feet  on  a  chair,  settled  his  hat  comfortably 
on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  chewed  his  cigar  meditatively. 

"Thunder!  You'd  better  keep  away  from  indignation 
meetings  where  Alec 's  going  to  speak.  You  're  likely  to  get 
shot." 

"Not  I,  sir.  I  called  him  a  coward,  right  there  in  the  meet- 
ing. A  most  unladylike  proceeding;  indeed,  it  was,  Amy. 

"  When  rose  the  maid  upon  a  chair, 
Some  called  her  false;  none  named  her  fair; 
Nathless  she  saw  nor  sneer  nor  frown, 
But  '  C-o-w-a-r-d '  flung  her  challenge  down." 

Amzi  ignored  her  couplets — Phil's  impromptu  verses 
always  embarrassed  him — and  demanded  the  particulars. 
He  chuckled  as  she  described  the  meeting.  He  cross-ex- 
amined her  to  be  sure  that  she  omitted  nothing.  Her 


PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET    329 

report  of  his  brother-in-law's  tirade  gave  him  the  greatest 
delight.  As  they  talked,  they  heard  plainly  the  commotion 
in  the  streets. 

" I  like  the  way  you  take  things,"  said  Phil.  "The  town 's 
gone  crazy,  and  there's  a  mob  in  front  of  your  little  toy 
bank,  but  you're  not  even  peevish." 

"Some  old  schoolmate  threw  a  brick  at  me  awhile  ago 
when  I  went  our  for  air  and  that  annoyed  me,"  Amzi  ad- 
mitted. "  If  those  fellows  out  there  who  have  n't  any  money 
in  any  bank,  and  never  will  have  any,  would  only  go  home, 
I  'd  do  something  to  relieve  the  pressure.  I  hanker  for  a 
chance  to  cross  the  street,  but  they  won't  let  me.  I  called 
the  mayor  on  the  telephone  and  demanded  that  he  send 
over  the  fire  department  and  sprinkle  'em,  but  he  said  he 
could  n't  unless  I  'd  turn  in  an  alarm  —  had  the  nerve  to  tell 
me  it  would  be  against  the  city  ordinances!  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  Phil?  Guess  the  police  force  is  under  the  bed 
at  home.  But  I  can  wait.  There 's  nothing  like  waiting. 
Take  it  from  me  that  you  'd  better  trot  along  to  your  tea. 
You  're  rather  cute  in  that  hat.  I  suppose  it  burnt  a  hole  in 
a  ten-dollar-bill." 

"Twenty-five,  Amy." 

"No  wonder  there  's  a  panic!  Go  out  and  show  yourself, 
so  they  can  see  what  a  plutocrat  looks  like.  I  guess  that 
would  cause  'em  to  break  windows  all  right." 

"Ungrateful  old  man!  Main  Street  will  be  opened  for 
traffic  in  a  few  minutes,  thanks  to  the  head  under  the  hat 
you  feign  to  despise.  I  sent  Fred  over  to  the  college  to  bring 
the  boys  down  to  clean  things  up.  They're  about  due, 
methinks." 

"Fred  in  town?" 

"Why  ask?   It's  Saturday  and  he's  a  farmer." 

"Your  thinker  thinks,  Phil.  Would  that  I  loved  prayer- 
meeting  as  much  as  you  love  trouble !  As  trustee  of  Madison, 
I  wish  you'd  left  the  boys  at  play.  That  last  Washington's 
Birthday  row  almost  broke  up  the  college." 

Phil  jumped  down  from  the  table  suddenly  and  flung  the 


330  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

door  open.  Above  the  murmur  of  the  restless  shuffling  crowd 
rose  the  sound  of  singing. 

The  sunny  afternoon  had  brought  to  Mill's  Field  budding 
baseballists  and  candidates  for  track  teams  and  a  gallery  of 
critics  of  their  performances.  Fred  Helton's  name  was  writ- 
ten high  in  the  athletic  records  of  Madison,  and  a  few  words 
bawled  from  the  bleachers  served  to  assemble  all  the  stu- 
dents in  sight. 

"There  's  an  ugly  mob  downtown,  boys;  and  it  may  do 
mischief  if  it  hangs  together  until  dark.  If  we  can  pry  'em 
apart,  they'll  go  home  and  forget  it." 

Fifty  students  immediately  formed  in  line.  "No  clubs  or 
sticks,  boys.  We  '11  march  down  Main  Street  in  good  order 
and  see  what  a  peaceful  demonstration  will  do.  Forward! 
March!" 

As  they  crossed  the  campus  at  double-quick,  students 
poured  out  of  the  library  and  joined  the  battalion.  Others 
came  tumbling  out  of  the  fraternity  houses  in  Buckeye 
Lane,  anxious  to  join  in  the  lark.  Before  entering  Main 
Street,  Fred  gave  his  last  orders,  which  were  accepted  with- 
out question  from  an  alumnus  whom  they  had  all  learned  to 
know  of  late  as  a  sympathetic  and  stimulating  visitor  to  the 
Gym,  and  the  adviser  for  the  Thanksgiving  football  game 
in  which  they  had  scored  a  victory  over  the  hosts  of 
Purdue. 

Two  blocks  from  the  bank  they  re-formed  in  four  lines, 
extending  from  curb  to  curb,  and  went  forward  to  the 
strains  of  "Old  Madison":  — 

"What  shall  we  do  for  Madison,  for  Madison,  for  Madison? 
What  shall  we  do  for  Madison,  our  college  and  her  men?  " 

To  the  familiar  strains  of  the  college  song,  Montgomery 
had  frequently  wept  not  without  reason,  for  the  young 
Madisonians  had  been  much  given  in  recent  years  to  ebulli- 
tions of  college  spirit.  The  timid  mayor  heard  it  now,  looked 
out  upon  the  lines  of  marching  students,  and  pulled  down 


PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET    331 

his  office  blinds  to  avoid  witnessing  the  inevitable  collision 
between  town  and  gown. 

As  the  students  approached,  women  and  timorous  men 
began  trying  to  escape.  Fred  signaled  to  the  yell  leader, 
who  began  beating  time,  and  the  street  rang  with  the  college 
cheer.  They  gave  it  over  and  over  again;  they  cheered  the 
college  and  every  bank  in  town,  and  between  cheers  Fred 
moved  the  lines  forward.  The  mechanics  and  farmers,  who, 
alarmed  for  the  security  of  their  savings,  had  formed  the 
nucleus  of  the  crowd,  began  to  disperse  before  the  advance  of 
the  students,  but  the  sidewalks  filled  with  those  who  ex- 
pected an  encounter  and  wished  to  view  it  in  safety.  Mer- 
chants closed  and  barred  their  doors  against  possible  in- 
vasion. The  rougher  element,  that  had  attached  itself  to  the 
throng  and  given  it  the  semblance  of  a  mob,  now  organized 
hastily  for  a  counter-demonstration. 

"Smash  the  college  dudes!"  bawled  a  big  fellow,  throwing 
himself  forward  as  leader.  There  was  a  rush  and  a  sharp 
struggle.  The  collegians  stood  fast.  The  town  phalanx 
withdrew  to  Franklin  Street,  and,  considerably  increased, 
rushed  again  upon  the  collegians.  A  lively  fist-fight  now  en- 
gaged the  vanguard  for  a  minute,  to  the  delight  of  the  spec- 
tators. Hard  blows  were  struck  on  both  sides.  While  this 
was  in  progress,  Fred  withdrew  the  rear  ranks  of  his  army, 
massed  them  compactly,  and  led  them  in  a  gallant  charge 
through  the  shattered  line  of  their  comrades,  against  the 
enemy.  The  students  wavered  at  the  moment  of  collision; 
there  was  sharp  tackling  and  the  line  broke,  closed  again, 
and  swept  on,  beyond  Franklin  Street  and  for  half  a  block 
further;  then  effected  a  quick  about-face  in  readiness  for 
another  charge  but  found  the  field  clear.  Some  one  on  the 
packed  sidewalk  proposed  a  cheer  for  the  college,  and  it  was 
given  with  a  will,  and  the  collegians  resumed  their  cheering. 
A  few  missiles  flung  by  the  vanquished  town  men  rained 
upon  them,  but  the  war  was  over.  Fred's  lines  were  flung 
across  the  intersecting  streets  like  pickets,  and,  impressed 
by  their  quiet  order,  the  belligerent  town  men  began  to 


33*  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

mingle  peacefully  with  the  lingering  crowd  on  the  pave- 
ments. 

Mr.  Amzi  Montgomery  appeared  on  the  steps  of  his 
bank,  and  glanced  up  and  down  the  street,  and  at  the  court- 
house clock,  like  a  pigeon  emerging  from  its  cote  after  a 
shower.  Phil,  having  been  warned  to  remain  inside,  natur- 
ally joined  him  an  instant  later.  Amzi  was  saluted  with  a 
cheer  in  recognition  of  his  dignity  as  treasurer  of  Madison's 
board  of  trustees,  —  a  greeting  he  acknowledged  by  puffing 
his  cheeks  and  guardedly  lifting  his  hat.  And  all  these  things 
pleased  Main  Street.  An  attack  on  the  First  National  had 
been  averted ;  the  students  had  made  amends  for  many  af- 
fronts to  municipal  dignity ;  and  it  was  in  the  air  that  other 
and  equally  interesting  incidents  would  add  further  to  the 
day's  entertainment. 

The  jubilant  yell  leader,  seeing  Phil  beside  Amzi,  decided 
that  she,  too,  was  deserving  of  attention. 

"For  the  girl  on  the  bank  steps  —  all  together!" 

While  this  rah-rahing  was  in  progress,  Amzi  left  the  steps 
and  started  across  the  street.  Now,  while  Amzi  Mont- 
gomery had  been  seen  of  all  men  in  all  years  and  at  all  sea- 
sons, standing  on  the  steps  of  his  bank  in  the  old  straw  hat, 
with  his  seersucker  coat  buttoned  tightly  round  his  sturdy 
figure,  he  had  never  before  been  known  to  descend  into 
Main  Street  in  that  garb.  The  crowd  immediately  began 
closing  in  upon  him  and  Fred  detached  a  squad  of  his 
brawniest  men  to  act  as  the  banker's  bodyguard. 

Amzi  moved  with  great  serenity  towards  the  First  Na- 
tional Bank,  and  appeared  to  be  examining  the  sunburst 
the  hostile  stone  had  stamped  upon  the  plate-glass  window. 
Amzi  never  hurried,  and  he  appeared  to  be  in  no  haste  now. 
Main  Street  was  pleased  that  he  deliberated.  The  longer  the 
entertainment  lasted  the  better.  The  door  of  the  First  Na- 
tional had  been  closed  with  little  difficulty  during  the  diver- 
sion afforded  by  the  arrival  of  the  college  men,  but  the  steps 
and  sidewalk  were  filled.  Amzi  looked  over  the  crowd 
musingly,  and  beckoned  to  Fred. 


PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET    333 

"  Get  me  a  box  to  stand  on  and  a  piece  of  soap  —  laundry 
soap.  I  want  to  — 

He  waved  his  cigar  toward  the  window  in  vague  explana- 
tion, and  Fred  dived  into  a  grocery  and  came  back  with  the 
articles  demanded.  Main  Street's  curiosity  had  never  been 
so  whetted  and  teased.  If  it  had  been  any  one  but  Amzi; 
but  it  was  so  unmistakably  Amzi!  Amzi  placed  the  box 
under  the  window  and  stood  upon  it.  Then  with  character- 
istic nonchalance  he  removed  the  wrapper  from  the  cake  of 
soap,  while  the  crowd  surged  and  shuffled,  filling  the  street 
again  in  its  anxiety  to  miss  nothing.  Amzi  broke  the  bar  of 
soap  in  two,  and  calmly  trimmed  half  of  it  to  serve  as  a 
crayon.  As  he  began  to  write  upon  the  glass,  his  guards 
were  hard-pressed  to  hold  back  the  throng  that  seemed 
bent  upon  pushing  the  banker  through  his  rival's  window. 
To  ease  the  tension  the  boys  struck  up  — 

"The  pirates  of  the  Wabash, 
A  jolly  crowd  are  they." 

Amzi  wrote  slowly,  in  a  large  round  hand,  beginning 
immediately  under  the  "First  National  Bank"  lettering. 
The  faint  tracings  of  the  soap  were  legible  only  a  few  yards 
away  and  the  yell-leader  began  reading  for  the  benefit  of 
the  crowd.  And  this  was  Amzi's  announcement:  — 

I  hereby  guarantee  all  deposits  in  this  bank. 

Interest  on  Sycamore  Traction  bonds  will  be  paid  here 
April  i .  Persons  from  whom  I  have  bought  such  bonds  may 
redeem  same  at  price  I  paid  for  them,  without  discount. 

A.  MONTGOMERY. 

When  he  had  completed  his  first  sentence,  he  paused  to 
inspect  it.  Murmurs  of  astonishment  gave  way  to  shouts 
of  approval,  and  then  the  street  grew  silent  as  the  re- 
mainder was  read  word  by  word. 

"Let  her  go  now,  for  A.  Montgomery ! "  cried  the  yell- 
leader,  and  while  necks  craned  and  men  jostled  and  pushed, 


334  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

the  students  cheered.  When  Amzi  had  written,  "at  the 
price  I  paid  for  them,"  he  made  a  period,  and  then,  after  a 
moment's  reflection,  drew  out  his  handkerchief  and  erased 
it  to  add  —  "without  discount." 

He  threw  away  the  soap  and  began  to  retrace  his  steps, 
but  the  whole  town  seemed  now  to  have  massed  itself  in  the 
intersecting  streets.  The  nearest  students  flung  themselves 
together  as  an  escort,  and  amid  cheers  Amzi  returned  to  his 
own  bank,  where  Phil  opened  the  door  and  demanded  to 
know  what  he  had  been  doing  to  be  cheered  as  only  a  foot- 
ball hero  is  cheered  when  his  name  is  read  at  commencement. 

"Thunder!"  said  Amzi.  "I  just  wanted  to  take  the  gas 
out  of  Alec's  speech.  What  are  those  fools  doing  now?  " 

Phil,  Fred,  and  Amzi,  with  several  of  the  students  who 
had  acted  as  the  banker's  bodyguard,  gathered  at  the 
front  window.  Amzi's  announcement  that  the  Sycamore 
interest  would  be  paid  had  brought  Kirkwood  into  the 
minds  of  many  who  knew  of  his  efforts  to  save  the  com- 
pany. His  name  shouted  here  and  there  in  the  street  di- 
rected attention  to  his  office  windows.  As  a  former  member 
of  the  faculty  of  Madison,  Kirkwood  appeared  usually  on 
the  platform  at  commencement,  and  now  that  he  was  men- 
tioned the  students  improvised  a  cheer  for  him  that  Kirk- 
wood's  building  flung  back  at  Montgomery's  Bank.  The 
demonstration  continued  with  increased  volume,  until 
finally  Kirkwood  opened  a  window  and  looked  down.  A 
shout  rose  as  he  appeared.  The  tears  sprang  to  Phil's  eyes 
as  she  saw  her  father's  tall  figure,  his  stoop  accentuated 
as  he  bent  under  the  window.  He  had  really  achieved  at 
last!  She  only  vaguely  grasped  the  import  of  what  Amzi  had 
told  her  in  a  few  abrupt  sentences  after  his  return  to  the 
bank,  but  her  heart  beat  fast  at  the  thought  that  her  father 
shared  in  the  day's  honors.  He  had  been  of  real  service  to 
his  fellow-townsmen  and  they  were  now  demanding  a 
speech.  He  bowed  and  vanished;  but  when  the  cheering 
was  renewed  and  long  continued,  he  came  back,  and  when 
silence  fell  upon  the  crowd  (Phil  wondered  if  they,  too,  felt 


PLEASANT  TIMES  IN  MAIN  STREET    335 

the  pathos  in  him  that  had  always  touched  her,  and  which 
just  then  brought  the  tears  to  her  eyes!)  he  spoke  slowly  and 
clearly. 

"My  friends,  this  is  the  best  town  and  its  people  are  the 
best  and  kindest  people  in  the  world.  If  I  have  done  any- 
thing to  win  your  praise  I  am  glad.  This  community  is 
bound  to  prosper,  for  it  is  founded,  not  upon  industry  and 
thrift  alone,  but  upon  faith  and  honor  and  helpfulness ;  and 
these,  my  good  friends,  are  the  things  that  endure  forever." 

"  I  could  n't  hear  that,"  said  Amzi  to  Phil,  as  her  father 
disappeared  into  his  office  amid  the  loudest  cheers  of  the 
day,  "but  I  reckon  Tom  said  about  the  right  thing." 

"I'm  sure  he  did,"  replied  Phil,  drying  her  eyes,  "and 
it's  all  true,  too!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN 

IT  's  pleasant,  on  the  whole,  to  do  something  worth  doing ; 
to  make  grass  grow  where  it  has  never  grown  before ;  to  put 
the  last  touch  to  a  canoe-paddle  of  exactly  the  right  weight 
and  balance;  to  bring  to  something  approximating  one's 
ideal  of  a  sound  sentence  the  last  stubborn,  maddening  clut- 
ter of  words  in  a  manuscript  that  has  grown  from  a  pen- 
scratch  on  the  back  of  an  envelope  into  a  potential  book. 
And  Tom  Kirkwood  was  not  without  his  sense  of  satisfaction. 
He  had  without  litigation  straightened  the  Sycamore  Com- 
pany's financial  tangles.  Its  physical  deficiencies  were  be- 
ing remedied  and  its  service  brought  to  standard.  He  had 
never  in  his  life  felt  so  conscious  of  his  powers.  He  was  out 
of  debt  —  having  paid  back  two  thousand  dollars  Amzi  had 
loaned  him  in  the  fall,  after  Phil  had  raised  the  red  flag  of 
danger  in  their  affairs.  The  load  was  off  his  back ;  men  spoke 
to  him  in  the  street  with  a  new  cordiality;  the  "Evening 
Star,"  in  an  excess  of  emotion  following  the  taking-over  of 
the  First  National  Bank  by  Amzi  and  all  the  moving  inci- 
dents connected  with  the  drama  of  Main  Street's  greatest 
day,  —  the  "Evening  Star  "  had  without  the  slightest  provo- 
cation, declared  that  the  Honorable  Thomas  Kirkwood  was 
just  the  man  for  governor.  The  Desbrosses  Trust  &  Guar- 
anty Company  had  not  only  paid  him  handsomely,  but  was 
entrusting  him  with  the  rehabilitation  of  a  traction  company 
in  Illinois  that  was  not  earning  dividends. 

He  came  back  to  Montgomery  to  try  some  cases  at  the 
April  term  of  court  and  sent  his  trunk  to  the  Morton 
House. 

"  It  is  n't  square,  daddy,"  said  Phil,  breaking  in  upon  him 
at  his  office  on  the  day  of  his  arrival.  "We  were  to  open  the 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  337 

house  again  when  you  had  finished  at  Indianapolis.  And  here 
you  are,  not  even  telling  me  you  were  coming." 

The  office  was  dingier  and  dustier  than  ever.  She  abused 
him  for  not  at  least  giving  her  a  chance  to  clean  it  against 
his  coming. 

"I  have  to  be  off  again  in  a  week;  it  did  n't  seem  worth 
while  to  put  you  to  the  trouble  of  opening  the  house  just 
for  that, "  he  replied  evasively.  His  own  affairs  again  occu- 
pied his  mind,  and  the  sight  of  Phil  gave  a  keen  edge  to  his 
curiosity  as  to  her  life  at  Amzi's. 

"Your  new  suit  is  certainly  some  clothes,  and  a  glimpse  of 
that  four-in-hand  makes  the  world  a  nobler  and  better  place 
to  live  in!  If  the  Indianapolis  boulevards  can  do  that  for 
you,  it's  too  bad  I  didn't  know  it  long  ago.  I  have  an 
idea"  —  and  she  paused  pensively  in  the  act  of  dusting  a 
chair  —  "  I  'm  a  good  deal  worried  by  the  idea  that  you  ought 
to  be  mussed!" 

He  pleaded  mockingly  for  mercy,  calling  attention  to  her 
inconsistency  in  admiring  his  raiment  while  at  the  same  time 
threatening  it  with  destruction. 

"You  seem  to  have  been  to  the  dressmaker  yourself. 
How 's  your  bank  account,  Phil?  I  suppose  your  uncle  will 
have  to  be  more  careful  about  overdrafts  now  that  he  has  a 
national  bank." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  broke.  And"  —  suddenly  serious-  "I 
must  tell  you  something,  daddy.  I  've  been  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  ask  you  if  you  cared ;  it  did  n't  seem  right  not  to 
ask  you;  and,  of  course,  if  you  mind,  I  won't." 

He  smiled  at  her  earnestness,  her  unusual  indirection. 
She  was  immensely  grown  up;  there  were  new  manifesta- 
tions of  her  otherwiseness.  He  noted  little  sophisticated 
tricks  of  manner  that  reminded  him  vaguely  of  some  one 
else. 

"Amy  says  it's  all  right  for  me  to  do  it,  but  that  I  must 
ask  you;  and  mamma  says  that,  too." 

Her  preluding  roused  apprehensions.  What  might  not 
have  happened  in  these  weeks  that  Phil  had  spent  with 


338  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Lois?  He  observed  his  daughter  with  a  new  intentness.  She 
drew  a  handkerchief  from  her  sleeve  and  touched  it  lightly, 
with  an  un-Phil-like  gesture  to  her  nose;  and  an  instant 
later,  with  an  almost  imperceptible  movement  of  her  head, 
resettled  her  hat.  She  had  acquired  —  quite  unconsciously 
he  did  not  question  —  a  new  air.  She  was  his  old  Phil,  but 
the  portrait  had  been  retouched  here  and  there,  and  was 
reminiscent  in  unaccountable  ways  of  some  one  else  very 
like  and  very  different. 

"Yes,  Phil,  come  out  with  it,"  he  said,  finding  her  eyes 
upon  him  in  a  wide,  unseeing  gaze  —  and  that,  too,  he  now 
remembered.  She  had  taken  on,  as  young  girls  do,  the  super- 
ficial graces  and  innocent  affectations  of  an  older  person. 
Such  perfectly  natural  and  pardonable  imitation  is  induced 
by  admiration;  and  Lois  had  oeen  a  woman  of  fascinations 
in  old  times !  He  had  no  reason  for  believing  that  she  had 
changed;  and  it  had  been  clear  to  him  that  first  day  of  Lois's 
return  that  she  had  laid  strong  hold  upon  Phil's  imagina- 
tion. 

"Mamma  wants  to  give  me  some  money:  she  has  already 
done  some  nice  things  for  me.  She  bought  this  hat  and  suit; 
but  she  wants  to  do  more." 

Kirkwood  frowned.  Lois  had  no  right  to  come  back  and 
steal  Phil  away  from  him.  He  was  at  once  jealous,  suspi- 
cious. He,  too,  had  assumed  that  Lois's  return  had  not  been 
voluntary;  that  she  had  come  back  of  necessity  and  flung 
herself  upon  Amzi's  charity.  It  would  be  quite  like  her  to 
try  to  tempt  Phil  with  a  handful  of  trinkets. 

"  It  is  n't  likely  that  she  has  much  to  give  you ;  but  before 
you  accept  anything  of  importance  you  should  be  sure  that 
it 's  a  proper  gift  for  her  to  offer,  that  she  can  afford  to  do  it." 

"There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  question  about  that, 
daddy.  What  she  wants  to  do  is  to  give  me  a  whole  lot  of 
money  —  enough  to  make  me  really  rich.  She  wants  to  put 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  a  trusteeship  for  me." 

There  was  consternation  in  his  quick  glance.  Nothing  in 
his  knowledge  of  Lois  justified  a  belief  that  she  would  ever, 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  339 

by  any  proper  and  reputable  means,  command  any  such 
sum. 

"You  must  be  mistaken,  Phil.  You  must  have  got  the 
figures  wrong.  It's  more  likely  a  thousand.  You  know 
mathematics  was  never  a  strong  point  with  you!" 

"  It 's  this  way,  you  see,  daddy.  She  made  a  lot  of  money 
-in  lucky  investments  —  mines,  real  estate,  and  things 
like  that.  She  told  me  a  little  about  it;  as  though  it  were  a 
great  joke.  But  she  is  very  clever;  she  did  it  all  by  herself  - 
and  no  one  knows  it,  except  just  Amy;  and  she  told  me  I 
might  tell  you,  so  you  'd  understand.  She  even  said  to  say  to 
you  —  "  and  Phil  paused,  knitting  her  brows.  To  be  repeat- 
ing as  from  a  stranger  a  message  from  her  mother  to  her 
father  was  a  fresh  phase  of  the  unreal  situation  created 
by  her  mother's  return.  "She  said  to  tell  you  she  came 
by  it  honestly;  that  it  was  n't  tainted  money! " 

And  Phil  laughed  nervously,  not  knowing  how  her  father 
would  take  this.  He  seemed  depressed,  in  the  old  familiar 
fashion;  and  she  could  not  know  the  reason  of  it,  or  that  the 
magnitude  of  his  former  wife's  resources  and  her  wish  to 
divide  with  her  daughter  rallied  all  manner  of  suspicions 
round  his  jealousy. 

"She  said  that  either  Amy  could  manage  it  for  me,  or  that 
if  you  liked  she  would  be  perfectly  willing  to  turn  it  over 
to  you.  She  was  very  kind  about  it,  daddy;  really  she  was." 

"I'm  not  questioning  that,  Phil.  It's  a  little  staggering, 
that 'sail."  , 

"But,  of  course,"  she  ran  on  eagerly,  "it  would  n't  make 
any  difference  between  you  and  me.  I  know  you  have  done 
everything  for  me.  Please  don't  ever  think  I  forget  that, 
daddy.  And  if  you  have  any  feeling  about  it,  please  say  no. 
I  don't  want  money,  just  to  be  having  it.  We've  always 
agreed  that  money  is  n't  the  main  thing  in  life." 

'"'It's  rather  necessary,  though,  as  we've  found  by  experi- 
ence," he  replied,  with  a  rueful  smile.  "I've  done  pretty 
badly,  Phil ;  but  things  are  brighter.  I  'm  able  now  to  begin 
putting  some  money  away  for  you  myself,  and  I  shall  do  it, 


340  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

of  course,  just  the  same.  But  as  to  your  mother's  offer,  you 
must  accept  it;  it's  a  large  sum,  far  more  than  I  could  ever 
command.  It  makes  you  independent;  it  changes  the  future 
for  you,  puts  things  within  your  reach  that  have  been  clear 
out  of  the  question.  And  it 's  very  generous  on  her  part  to 
tell  you  to  refer  the  matter  to  me.  I  assume,"  he  added, 
"that  she 's  keeping  enough  for  herself ;  there  might  be  some 
difficulty  later  on  if  she  did  n't  do  that." 

"Oh,"  said  Phil,  with  an  unconscious  note  of  pride  that 
did  not  escape  him,  "she  has  plenty;  she's  richer,  I  suppose, 
than  almost  anybody  around  here.  She  did  n't  ask  me  not  to 
tell  you  anything  — she 's  not  like  that  —  so  you  may  as  well 
know  that  she  gave  Amy  a  lot  of  money  to  help  him  set 
up  the  new  bank.  It 's  so  funny  that  I  can't  help  laughing. 
The  whole  family  —  one's  aunts,  I  mean  —  think  she  came 
back  to  sponge  off  of  Amy,  and  they  don't  know  she's  going 
to  own  almost  as  much  as  he  does  in  the  new  Montgomery 
National.  I  get  to  giggling  when  I  see  those  women  strut- 
ting by  the  house  with  their  chins  up,  but  mamma  does  n't 
pay  the  least  attention.  I  don't  believe  she  thinks  about  them 
at  all ;  she 's  had  the  house  fixed  over  —  pitched  a  lot  of 
Amy's ,  old  furniture  into  the  alley  —  and  is  having  the 
garden  done  by  a  landscape  gardener  she  imported  from 
Chicago.  And  those  poor  women  are  fretting  themselves  to 
death,  thinking  it 's  Amy's  money  she's  spending.  Yes- 
terday she  ordered  a  seven  thousand  dollar  automobile  by 
telegraph,  —  just  like  that!  —  and  when  it  anchors  in  front 
of  Amy's  gate  there'll  be  some  deaths  from  heart  failure  in 
that  neighborhood." 

Kirkwood's  sometime  sisters-in-law  had  been  three  sharp 
thorns  in  his  side;  and  Phil's  joy  at  the  prospect  of  their  dis- 
comfiture when  they  beheld  their  sister  rolling  about  in  an 
expensive  motor  was  not  without  justification.  Lois's  pros- 
perity was,  however,  deeply  mystifying.  It  flashed  upon 
him  suddenly  that  he  did  not  in  the  least  know  this  Lois 
of  whom  Phil  had  been  speaking:  she  was  certainly  not 
the  young  woman,  scarcely  out  of  her  girlhood,  who  had  so 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  341 

shamelessly  abandoned  him.  And  over  this  thought  stumbled 
another:  he  had  never  known  her!  As  he  reflected,  his  eyes 
roamed  to  a  large  calendar  on  the  wall  over  Phil's  head. 
This  was  the  1 2th  of  April,  his  wedding-day.  The  date  in- 
terested him  only  passively ;  it  had  long  ago  ceased  to  affect 
him  emotionally. 

He  meant  to  speak  to  Nan  before  he  left  town  and  en- 
deavor once  more  to  persuade  her  that  Lois's  return  had 
made  no  difference.  As  he  swung  idly  in  his  chair  he  sought 
to  analyze  his  feelings.  Those  little  tricks  of  manner  that 
Phil  imitated  so  unconsciously  kept  recurring  and  he  tried  to 
visualize  the  Lois  of  the  present  as  she  must  be ;  —  clever,  im- 
pulsive in  her  generosities,  heedless,  indifferent.  In  all  his 
conjecturing  since  Christmas  he  had  experienced  no  longing 
to  have  her  back ;  nothing  beyond  a  mild  impersonal  curios- 
ity as  to  how  time  had  dealt  with  her. 

The  success  that  had  attended  his  labors  had  strengthened 
all  the  fibers  of  his  will;  he  was  the  master  of  himself,  a  man 
again.  He  had  demonstrated  to  his  own  surprise  and  satis- 
faction that  he  could  devise  a  plan  and  put  it  through; 
that  he  could  bring  an  iron  hand  to  his  dealings  with  men. 
And  buoyed  up  by  this  fresh  knowledge  he  was  impatient 
at  the  frustration  of  any  of  his  plans  and  hopes.  Lois  had 
shaken  down  the  pillars  of  his  life  once;  but  she  could  not 
repeat  that  injury.  He  had  built  himself  a  new  argosy 
and  found  a  new  companion  for  his  voyaging.  Nan  should 
marry  him;  if  she  liked  they  would  remove  to  Indianapolis 
to  escape  gossipy  tongues;  but  he  had  definitely  determined 
that  the  marriage  should  not  be  delayed.  He  was  a  free  man 
and  he  meant  to  exercise  and  enjoy  his  freedom.  He  had 
taken  soundings  where  he  had  gone  down  on  that  first  ven- 
ture and  touched  nowhere  any  trace  of  the  wreck;  the  waters 
of  oblivion  rippled  listlessly  over  those  unmarked  shoals. 

He  swung  round  with  an  uncomfortable  sense  that  Phil 
had  been  watching  him  as  she  bent  forward,  her  elbow  rest- 
ing on  the  arm  of  one  of  the  old  office  chairs,  her  hand 
against  her  cheek.  That  had  been  one  of  Lois's  ways  and 


342  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Phil's  brown  eyes  were  very  like  Lois's!  He  did  not  want 
Phil  to  attribute  his  long  reverie  to  retrospective  regrets  or 
present  longings. 

"Well,  Phil;  I  Ve  got  to  go  to  the  court-house  to  see  Judge 
Walters.  About  that  money,  it 's  perfectly  right  for  you  to 
accept  it;  but  I  think  it  best  that  your  Uncle  Amzi  should 
have  the  care  of  it.  It 's  a  considerable  responsibility,  how- 
ever, and  you  must  let  him  know  that  you  appreciate  his 
doing  it;  and  I'll  speak  to  him  about  it  myself.  If  you're 
going  home  you  can  walk  as  far  as  the  court-house  with  me." 

He  had  spoken  briskly,  to  emphasize  his  own  indifference 
to  Lois  and  her  money. 

While  Kirkwood  was  collecting  some  papers,  Phil,  after 
moving  restlessly  about  and  glancing  down  at  Amzi — he 
happened  just  then  to  be  standing  on  the  bank  steps  talking 
to  an  agent  of  the  Comptroller's  office  who  had  been  dis- 
patched from  Washington  to  observe  the  metamorphosis  of 
the  First  National  into  the  Montgomery  National,  —  Phil, 
with  an  embarrassment  that  was  new  to  her  relations  with 
her  father,  asked  diffidently,  — 

"Shall  I  say  anything  to  mamma  —  I  mean  about  the 
money?" 

This  was  not  at  all  what  she  had  meant  to  say.  She  had 
hoped  that  he  would  send  some  message  to  her  mother. 
It  was  incredible  that  the  wires  should  be  so  utterly  broken 
between  them  as  to  make  all  communication  impossible. 
They  were  both  so  much  to  her  liking;  in  her  own  heart  ad- 
miration and  love  enfolded  them  both  so  completely  that 
her  spirit  chafed  at  the  thought  of  standing  first  with  one  and 
then  with  the  other  on  the  respective  sides  of  the  barricade 
that  had  risen  between  them.  Her  father  replied  brusquely :  — 

"No;  that's  all,  I  believe,  Phil." 

As  they  walked  toward  the  court-house,  Lois  passed  on 
the  opposite  sidewalk.  It  is  not  against  Montgomery  con- 
ventions to  nod  to  friends  across  Main  Street  or  even  to 
pause  and  converse  across  that  thoroughfare  if  one  is  so  dis- 
posed. Phil  nodded  to  her  mother.  She  was  unable  to  tell 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  343 

whether  her  father  was  conscious  that  his  former  wife  was 
so  near;  he  lifted  his  hat  absently,  seeing  that  Phil  was 
speaking  to  some  one. 

"By  the  way,  Phil,  have  you  been  in  the  house  lately  — 
the  old  place,  I  mean?  Amzi's  carpenter  tells  me  the  wind  has 
torn  off  the  water-spouts  and  that  the  veranda  posts  have 
rotted  badly." 

He  had  so  rarely  mentioned  the  long-abandoned  house 
that  she  was  startled.  He  did  not  care!  This  was  the  most 
conclusive  proof  possible  that  he  no  longer  cared;  and  the 
thought  of  it  did  not  make  her  happy.  Clearly  Love  was 
not,  after  all,  a  limitless  dominion,  without  other  bounds  than 
those  set  by  the  farthest  stars,  but  a  narrow,  dark,  and  unsta- 
ble realm.  That  these  two  should  dwell  in  the  same  town, 
walk  the  same  street,  at  the  same  hour,  without  any  desire  to 
see  and  speak  to  each  other,  was  the  strangest  of  phenomena. 

"Drop  in  to-morrow  and  have  luncheon  with  me  at  the 
hotel.  I  want  to  see  all  of  you  I  can  while  I  'm  here,"  he  re- 
marked when  they  reached  the  court-house. 

"Very  well,  daddy." 

That  evening,  after  he  had  eaten  the  hotel  supper  with  a 
printed  brief  for  company,  Kirkwood  went  to  the  Bartletts1, 
but  no  one  answered  his  summons  and  he  turned  away  dis- 
appointed. Thinking  they  were  probably  at  some  neigh- 
bor's house  he  decided  to  walk  about  and  return  later.  His 
idle  roaming  led  him  past  Center  Church.  It  was  prayer- 
meeting  night,  and  through  the  open  windows  floated  a 
hymn  sung  waveringly  by  the  small  gathering  of  the  faithful. 
It  was  here,  on  just  such  an  April  night,  that  he  and  Lois  had 
sworn  to  love  and  cherish  each  other  to  the  end  of  their  days. 
He  had  been  profoundly  moved  that  night,  standing  be- 
fore the  reverend  president  of  the  college  in  the  crowded 
church  and  repeating  his  vows  after  the  kindly,  lovable  old 
man.  And  he  remembered  how,  as  they  left  the  church,  the 
assembled  students  had  shown  their  good-will  in  ringing 
cheers.  But  these  memories  had  lost  their  poignancy.  Ver- 
ily, he  did  not  care! 


344  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

Finding  himself  presently  before  Amzi's  house,  he  remem- 
bered without  emotion  that  Lois  was  established  there.  It 
was  an  ironic  fling  of  the  dice  that  had  brought  her  back 
prosperous  and  presumably  happy  to  lure  Phil  away  from 
him!  He  walked  slowly;  the  proximity  of  his  recreant  wife 
gave  him  neither  pang  nor  thrill.  He  loitered  that  the  test 
might  be  the  more  complete. 

A  man  had  been  walking  toward  him  from  the  farther  side 
of  the  Montgomery  place,  and  something  furtive  in  his 
movements  caused  Kirkwood  to  pause.  Then,  after  halting 
uncertainly  and  fumbling  at  the  chain  that  held  the  Kirk- 
wood  gate  together,  the  man  retraced  his  steps,  and  guard- 
edly let  himself  into  the  Fosdicks'  yard.  Kirkwood  lis- 
tened, and  hearing  no  further  sounds  dismissed  the  matter. 
It  now  occurred  to  him  to  visit  his  own  property,  whose 
decrepitude  Amzi  had  brought  to  his  attention,  and  find- 
ing that  he  had  matches  and  the  house  key,  he  lifted  the 
chain  from  the  rickety  gate  and  passed  into  the  garden. 
Kirkwood  was  preoccupied  with  the  idea  of  putting  the 
house  and  lot  in  order  and  selling  it.  Now  that  he  was  con- 
fident that  it  no  longer  held  any  associations  for  him,  he  was 
in  haste  to  be  rid  of  it.  He  would  sell  the  place  and  invest 
the  proceeds  for  Phil.  He  smiled  ironically  as  he  remem- 
bered the  disparity  between  his  own  fortunes  and  those  of 
his  former  wife.  He  did  not  resent  her  prosperity ;  he  did  not 
understand  it;  but  if  it  was  the  way  of  the  gods  to  visit 
fortune  upon  the  unrighteous,  so  much  the  worse  for  the 
gods. 

A  brick  walk  curved  round  the  house,  and  as  he  was  about 
to  step  from  it  to  the  veranda  he  heard  voices  that  came 
seemingly  from  the  jutting  corner  of  a  wing  that  had  been 
his  library.  He  had  no  wish  to  be  found  there.  Very  likely 
the  yard  was  visited  frequently  by  prowlers ;  and  there  was 
a  beaten  path  across  the  rear  which  had  been  for  years  a 
short  cut  between  Amzi's  and  his  sisters'  houses.  He  was  in 
no  mood  for  a  meeting  with  any  intruder  who  might  be  there 
at  this  hour,  and  he  was  about  to  steal  back  the  way  he  had 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  345 

come  when  a  man's  voice  rose  suddenly  in  anger.  A  woman 
replied,  evidently  counseling  a  lower  tone. 

"Here  in  Tom's  graveyard  is  a  fitting  place  to  talk  over 
our  affairs.  You  need  n't  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  go.  We  may 
as  well  fix  this  thing  up  now  and  be  done  with  it.  I'm 
broke;  I  have  n't  got  a  cent,  and  it's  tough,  I  can  tell  you. 
But  it 's  some  satisfaction  to  know  that  Will 's  broke,  too.  I 
took  care  that  he  got  his,  all  right.  The  Holtons  are  all  down 
and  out.  Will 's  as  poor  as  I  am,  and  my  gay  nephew  Char- 
lie 's  busy  dodging  the  .sheriff.  Not  much  left  for  Will  now 
but  to  go  out  and  rustle  for  life  insurance  —  the  common 
fate  of  inglorious  failure." 

The  woman's  voice  rose  crisp  and  assured  on  the  tender 
spring  air. 

"Your  note  said  it  was  something  of  importance.  I  can't 
stay  here  all  night.  I  have  n't  any  money  for  you  and  your 
family  troubles  don't  interest  me.  And  let  me  say,  once  and 
for  all,  that  I  don't  propose  to  have  you  following  me  round. 
This  is  a  big  world  and  there's  room  in  it  for  both  of  us." 

Kirkwood  could  not  see  them,  though  he  heard  perfectly 
every  word  that  had  been  spoken,  and  he  could  not  escape 
without  attracting  their  attention. 

"See  here,  Lois,  I've  just  heard  a  whisper  from  Seattle 
that  you  cleaned  up  a  lot  of  money  out  there.  Good  joke  on 
me,  was  n't  it?  I  thought  you  were  pretty  thick  with  the 
Barkleys,  but  I  did  n't  know  he  had  let  you  into  his  deals. 
I  want  my  share ;  if  it  had  n't  been  for  me,  you  would  n't 
have  known  Seattle  was  on  the  map.  It's  only  fair;  I  '11  call 
it  fifty  thousand  and  let  it  go  at  that." 

"Nothing;  absolutely  not  a  penny!  I  advise  you  to  make 
yourself  scarce.  And  if  you  attempt  to  annoy  me  while  I  'm 
here,  I  '11  do  something  very  unpleasant  about  it.  I  agreed 
to  meet  you  to-night  merely  to  tell  you  that." 

Kirkwood  heard  her  step  on  the  walk,  and  drew  back. 
The  light  of  the  moon  was  full  upon  her.  She  was  bareheaded 
and  wrapped  in  a  long  coat.  It  was  thus  that  he  saw  her 
again,  in  the  shadow  of  the  house  where  together  they  had 


346  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

kindled  their  hearth,  —  in  the  garden  plot  whose  disorder 
and  ruin  were  eloquent  of  her  broken  faith. 

She  was  moving  away  swiftly,  with  the  light  step  he  re- 
membered. Hoi  ton  gained  her  side  in  a  long  leap. 

"No,  you  don't!  Not  by  a  damned  sight,  you  don't!" 

Kirkwood  saw  them  both  clearly  in  their  attitude  of  an- 
tagonism —  the  wife  who  had  wronged  him,  the  friend  who 
had  betrayed  him. 

"You  don't  shake  me  so  easily.  I  want  my  share  of  the 
profits.  It  was  a  low  trick  —  getting  rid  of  me  so  you  could 
spend  your  money  on  yourself;  humiliating  me  by  showing 
me  up  as  a  drunkard  in  the  divorce  court.  I  owe  you  a  good 
one  for  that! " 

"Not  a  cent!"  she  repeated,  lifting  her  head  in  mockery 
of  his  clumsy  attempt  to  becloud  the  real  issue. 

Her  taunting  tone  maddened  him;  without  warning  he 
gripped  her  throat  roughly.  His  tightening  clasp  stifled  her 
cry  as  she  struggled  to  free  herself. 

Kirkwood  stood  suddenly  beside  them,  caught  Holton  by 
the  collar,  and  flung  him  back.  Holton's  arm  was  up  in- 
stantly to  ward  off  an  expected  blow.  He  turned  guardedly, 
and  his  arm  fell  as  he  recognized  Kirkwood. 

"So  that's  the  ticket!  It  was  a  trap,  was  it?"  And  then 
his  anger  mounting,  he  flung  round  at  Lois.  "So  this  is  what 
brought  you  back!  Well,  it  does  n't  lower  my  price  any!  He 
can  have  you  and  be  damned  to  him,  but  I  double  my  price ! " 

"This  is  my  property,"  said  Kirkwood  coldly;  "if  you 
don't  leave  instantly,  I  '11  turn  you  over  to  the  police." 

"She's  come  back  to  you,  has  she!  Well,  you  need  n't  be 
so  set  up  about  it.  She's  anybody's  woman  for  the  asking; 
you  ought  to  have  learned  that  — " 

Kirkwood 's  stick  fell  with  a  sharp  swish  across  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"Leave  these  grounds  at  once  or  I'll  send  you  to  the 
lockup!" 

Holton  looked  coweringly  from  one  to  the  other.  The 
strangeness  of  the  encounter  was  in  the  mind  of  each :  that 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  347 

the  years  had  slipped  away  and  that  Kirkwood  was  defend- 
ing her  from  the  man  for  whom  she  had  abandoned  him.  An 
unearthly  quiet  lay  upon  the  garden.  Children's  voices  rose 
faintly  on  the  silvery  April  night  from  the  grounds  beyond. 
Far  away,  beyond  the  station,  a  locomotive  puffed  slowly 
on  a  steep  grade.  The  noises  of  the  town  seemed  eerily 
blurred  and  distant. 

" Clear  out!  Your  business  here  is  finished.  And  don't 
come  back,"  said  Kirkwood  firmly. 

"She  asked  me  to  meet  her  here;  —  you  must  have  known 
it;  it  was  a  damned  vile  trick—  Hoi  ton  broke  out  vio- 
lently ;  but  Kirkwood  touched  him  with  the  end  of  his  stick, 
pointed  toward  the  gate,  and  repeated  his  order  more 
sharply.  Holton  whirled  on  his  heel,  found  an  opening  in  the 
hedge,  and  left  them,  the  boughs  snapping  behind  him. 

Kirkwood  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  He 's  gone,  I  think.  I  '11  watch  until  you  get  safely  back 
to  Amzi's." 

He  lifted  his  hat;  his  tone  was  one  of  dismissal  and  she 
turned  as  though  to  leave,  hesitated  and  drew  a  step 
nearer. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  I  'd  like  to  speak  to  you  a  moment.  I 
should  n't  have  thought  of  seeking  you,  of  course,  but  this 
makes  it  possible." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  waited,  leaning  on  his  stick.  Her 
foot  tapped  the  walk  nervously ;  as  she  readjusted  the  cloak 
it  exhaled  the  faint  scent  of  orris  that  reached  him  as 
though  wafted  down  some  dim  aisle  of  memory. 

."I  want  to  speak  about  Phil.  It  was  to  see  Phil  that  I 
came  back.  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  would  n't  take  her 
away  from  you  if  I  could.  There  must  be  no  misunderstand- 
ing about  this.  Whatever  I  am  or  have  been  or  may  be,  I  am 
not  base  enough  for  that." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"That  is  something  that  is  not  in  your  hands  or  mine,"  he 
answered.  " Phil  is  the  mistress  of  her  own  affairs.  I  was 
perfectly  willing  that  she  should  go  to  Amzi's  to  be  with 


348  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

you ;  it 's  for  her  to  decide  whether  she  ever  comes  back 
to  me." 

"That  is  —  generous;  very  generous,"  she  replied,  as 
though,  after  hesitating  before  using  the  word,  her  second 
thought  confirmed  the  choice. 

"And  about  the  money;  she  told  me  she  spoke  to  you 
about  that  to-day.  I  appreciate  your  attitude.  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  I  'm  not  trying  to  bribe  her.  I  'm  glad  of 
a  chance  to  say  that  I  would  do  nothing  to  spoil  her  loyalty 
to  you.  You  deserve  that;  and  I  have  no  illusions  about  my- 
self. If  I  thought  my  coming  would  injure  her  —  or  you  — 
in  any  way,  I  should  go  at  once  and  never  come  back.  But  I 
had  to  see  her,  and  it  has  all  happened  fortunately  —  Amzi's 
kindness,  and  hers  —  and  your  own!  Phil  is  so  dear — so 
lovable!" 

Her  last  words  broke  in  a  sob,  but  she  quickly  regained 
her  self-control. 

"I'm  glad,"  he  replied,  "if  you  are  not  disappointed  in 
her.  We  have  been  very  close  —  comrades  and  friends ;  but 
she  has  gone  beyond  me;  and  that  was  inevitable.  She's  an 
independent  spirit  —  quite  capable  of  managing  her  own 
affairs." 

"I  don't  think  she  will  ever  go  beyond  you,"  Lois  answered. 
"She  has  told  me  all  the  story — and  I  have  read  a  good 
deal  into  it  that  she  did  n't  tell  me.  And  I  am  very  grateful. 
She  did  n't  have  to  tell  me  that  you  had  not  embittered  her 
against  me;  her  way  of  meeting  me  was  reassuring  as  to  that. 
It  was  fine  of  you;  it  was  n't  what  I  expected  or  deserved." 

Unconsciously  they  had  begun  walking  back  and  forth  in 
the  path,  and  once,  as  they  turned,  they  looked  at  each 
other  fixedly  for  the  first  time.  It  was  the  deliberate  frank 
scrutiny  of  old  acquaintances  who  seek  affirmation  of  fading 
memories  after  long  absence. 

"As  to  the  money,  I  want  to  protect  her,  as  far  as  money 
can  do  it,  from  hardship  and  need  hereafter.  I  don't  want 
you  to  think  I  offer  it  as  restitution  —  or  —  penance.  I  have 
plenty  for  myself;  I'm  giving  up  nothing  in  doing  it." 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  349 

He  tried  to  phrase  carefully  his  disavowal  of  any  thought 
that  her  gift  was  a  penitential  act.  He  confessed  that  he  had 
been  concerned  for  Phil's  future;  and  that  so  far  he  had  not 
been  able  to  provide  for  her  in  case  of  his  death.  This 
brought  him  to  Amzi,  whose  devotion  to  Phil  he  praised 
warmly.  They  met  immediately  upon  the  safe  ground  of 
Amzi's  nobility.  Then  they  recurred  to  Phil.  Presently  as 
they  passed  the  veranda,  she  sat  down  on  the  steps  and  after 
a  moment  he  seated  himself  beside  her.  They  had  sat  thus, 
looking  out  upon  the  newly  planned  garden,  when  the  mys- 
tery and  wonder  of  Phil's  coming  filled  their  hearts  and 
minds. 

"I  've  thought,"  she  said,  bending  forward  with  her  arms 
folded  upon  her  knees,  "that  Phil  ought  to  travel  — that  I 
might  take  her  away  for  a  little  while."  She  waited  for  his 
assent;  but  when  he  was  silent,  she  hurried  on  to  set  herself 
right  in  this.  "  But  I  don't  believe  that  would  be  best.  Not 
with  me.  Trotting  around  with  me  over  there  would  n't  do 
her  any  good.  It  might  spoil  her  point  of  view,  which  is  — 
just  right  —  sound  and  healthy.  The  child 's  a  genius.  She 
wants  to  write  —  of  course  you  know  that." 

He  did  not  know  it.  Jealousy  pricked  him  at  this  sudden 
revelation  of  something  in  Phil  that  he  had  not  with  all  his 
opportunity  realized. 

"She's  very  clever,"  he  responded  tamely. 

"It's  more  than  that!  She  has  a  trunkful  of  stuff  she's 
written  —  some  of  it  rubbish ;  some  of  it  amazingly  good." 

He  resented  these  appraisements  of  Phil's  literary  experi- 
ments. It  was  disagreeable  to  hear  from  Phil's  mother 
things  which  he  should  have  learned  for  himself.  His  trained 
analytical  faculties  were  disturbed;  he  had  regarded  the 
theory  of  the  superior  keenness  of  maternal  perception  as 
rather  fantastic.  Phil  had  never  confided  her  ambitions  to 
him;  in  fact,  it  was  now  clear  that  she  had  concealed  them, 
perhaps  fearing  his  criticisms. 

"  She 's  so  droll !"  —and  Lois  laughed  at  some  recollec- 
tion. "She  has  a  delicious  humor  —  her  own  special  flavor. 


35°  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

All  these  people  in  Montgomery  are  story-book  people  to 
her.  She 's  a  deep  one  —  that  little  Phil !  She  has  written 
pages  about  them  —  and  the  drollest  of  all  about  those 
women  over  there." 

She  indicated  with  a  gesture  the  domiciles  of  her  sisters. 
The  fact  that  Phil  had  utilized  her  aunts  as  literary  material 
amused  Lois  profoundly.  But  finding  that  the  burden  of  the 
talk  lay  with  her  she  asked,  "What  would  you  think  of 
college  for  Phil?  Or  is  it  too  late?" 

"She  did  n't  seem  a  good  subject  when  the  time  came ;  and 
besides,"  he  added  bluntly,  "I  could  n't  afford  it." 

"Oh,  she  did  n't  speak  of  it  regretfully;  she  did  n't  com- 
plain because  you  had  n't  sent  her!" 

"No,  of  course  not;  that  would  n't  be  like  Phil.  I 'm  not 
sure  college  would  be  a  good  thing  for  her  now ;  she  's  read 
prodigiously  —  away  ahead  of  most  girls,  ahead  of  most 
people!  There  would  n't  be  so  much  that  college  could  do 
for  her.  And  if  she  really  has  the  creative  faculty,  it 's  better 
not  to  curb  or  check  it.  Not  in  her  case.  She  led  her  class  in 
high  school  without  working  at  it.  Whatever  she  wants  to 
know  she  will  get  without  tying  herself  up  in  a  college 
course." 

Lois  nodded.  He  was  an  educated  man  who  had  himself 
been  a  teacher,  and  his  testimony  was  entitled  to  respect. 
She  was  far  more  comfortable  than  he  as  they  continued  the 
discussion.  The  breadth  of  her  understanding  of  Phil  piqued 
him.  In  these  few  weeks  Lois  had  learned  much  about 
Phil  that  had  been  a  sealed  book  to  him.  His  position  was 
absurd;  it  was  preposterous  for  him  to  be  learning  about 
Phil  from  Phil's  mother,  when  it  was  he  who  had  shaped  the 
course  of  Phil's  life.  He  wondered  whether  Lois  knew  that 
her  disclosures  hurt  his  pride,  shattered  his  vanity. 

"The  dear  child  seems  to  be  the  sole  prop  of  most  of  the 
paupers  in  the  bottoms.  I  went  with  her  to  look  at  one  of  her 
families  yesterday,  and  I  could  see  where  her  spare  change 
has  been  going.  She's  set  up  a  piano  in  the  box  factory  so 
the  girls  can  amuse  themselves  at  noontime  and  you  may 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  351 

be  sure  they're  all  crazy  about  her.  Everybody  seems  to 
be!" 

The  remembrance  of  Phil's  generosities  amused  her.  She 
mentioned  a  number  of  them  with  murmurous  glee  and 
unmistakable  admiration.  Phil  had  never  confided  these 
things  to  him,  and  he  reflected  ruefully  that  her  indulgence 
in  pianos  for  working-girls  probably  accounted  for  deficien- 
cies in  her  own  wardrobe  that  had  not  at  times  escaped  his 
masculine  eye.  He  had  mildly  wondered  what  became  of  the 
money  he  gave  Phil  for  shoes!  It  argued  an  unresponsive- 
ness  in  his  own  nature  that  Phil  had  concealed  her  adven- 
tures as  Lady  Bountiful  from  him  —  and  he  had  thought 
she  told  him  everything! 

He  was  learning  about  Phil  from  the  last  person  in  the 
world  who  had  any  right  to  know  Phil.  He  had  seen  in  her 
precociousness,  her  healthy  delight  in  books,  nothing  aston- 
ishing, and  he  had  known  nothing  of  her  scribbling.  His 
irritation  grew.  He  was  impatient  to  escape  from  this  gar- 
den that  Holton  had  spoken  of  as  Kirkwood's  graveyard; 
from  this  cheerful  ghost  beside  him,  with  her  low,  musical 
voice  and  her  murmurous  laughter.  His  thoughts  flew  to 
Nan,  to  whom  he  now  meant  to  go  with  his  last  appeal. 

It  flashed  upon  him  that  he  might  assure  his  victory  over 
Nan's  qualms  by  carrying  to  her  the  definite  knowledge  that 
there  was  absolutely  no  hope,  as  he  fancied  Nan  believed 
there  was,  that  he  and  Lois  might  bridge  the  wide  chasm  that 
had  separated  them  for  so  many  years  and  renew  the  old  tie. 
If  he  could  go  from  Lois  to  Nan  with  that  news,  he  believed 
his  case  would  be  invincible.  He  would  make  the  offer  to 
Lois  now,  on  this  spot  whose  associations  might  be  supposed 
to  create  an  atmosphere  of  sentiment  favorable  to  its  seri- 
ous consideration.  The  interview  had  run  into  a  dead  wall. 
Quite  imaginably  his  proximity  had  begun  to  bore  Lois. 
He  idled  with  his  stick,  pondering.  She  rose  suddenly. 

"  I  must  go  back;  Phil  won't  know  what's  become  of  me/| 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  tell  her  that  we've  met," 
he  said.  "In  fact,  I  think  she  should  know." 


352  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"I  prefer  not,"  she  answered  with  decision.  "It  might 
trouble  her;  she  might  think  —  she  thinks  of  everything!" 

"Lois,  there  are  ways  —  important  ones  —  in  which  it 
would  be  best  for  her,  make  her  happier,  if  we  could  —  try 
again!" 

She  raised  her  hand  with  one  of  her  quick  gestures,  and  it 
rested  for  an  instant  on  his  arm.  As  she  lifted  her  face  he 
saw  the  tears  bright  in  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  say  it ;  don't  think  of  it ! "  she  whispered  brokenly. 

"For  Phil's  sake  we  ought  to  do  it  if  we  can,"  he  per- 
sisted, surprised  to  find  how  unmoved  he  was. 

"For  Phil's  sake  we  wouldn't  if  we  could!"  Their  gaze 
met  searchingly.  "  It  would  be  doing  Phil  a  terrible  wrong !" 

"I  don't  understand;  I  can't  follow  that,"  he  answered. 

And  still  unmoved,  untouched,  he  saw  grief  and  fear  in  her 
eyes,  her  face  twitching  with  the  pain  of  inner  conflict. 
"<7?" No;  you  don't  understand!"  she  cried  softly.  "But  if 
you  meant  it  —  if  we  either  of  us  cared  any  more,  don't  you 
see  that  it  would  n't  do!  Don't  you  know  how  unjust  — 
how  horribly  unjust  it  would  be  to  her,  to  —  to  lead  her  to 
think  that  Love  could  be  like  that;  something  to  be  taken 
on  and  put  off?  It  would  be  an  unholy  thing!  It  would  be 
a  sacrilege!  No  one  would  be  deceived  by  it;  and  Phil 
would  know  we  both  lied!" 

"But  we  might  work  it  out  some  way;  with  her  to  help 
it  might  not  go  badly.  I  would  do  my  best !  I  promise  you 
that,"  he  said,  more  sincere  than  he  had  meant  to  be. 

She  was  greatly  moved  and  he  wondered  where  emotion 
might  lead  her.  He  was  alertly  watchful  for  any  quick  thrust 
that  might  find  him  off  guard.  She  went  on  hurriedly. 

"Tom,"  she  said  gently,  "Phil  had  thought  of  it;  she 
spoke  of  it.  But  nothing  worse  could  happen  to  her.  It 
would  spoil  the  dear  illusions  she  has  about  me;  and  in  the 
end  she  would  think  less  of  you.  For  you  don't  mean  it; 
it's  only  for  Phil's  sake  you  suggest  it." 

"And  for  your  own  sake,  too;  to  protect  you  from  — 
from  just  such  occurrences  as  — " 


THE  FORSAKEN  GARDEN  353 

His  eyes  turned  away  from  her  to  the  point  in  the  hedge 
through  which  Holton  had  vanished. 

She  shivered  as  though  a  cold  wind  had  touched  her  and 
drew  the  cloak  closer  about  her  shoulders. 

"I  don't  need  any  one's  protection.  That  poor  beast 
won't  bother  me.  I  must  say  now  all  I  shall  ever  have  to 
say  to  you.  We  won't  lie  to  each  other;  we  need  not!  There 
is  no  real  soul  in  me.  If  there  had  been,  this  house  would 
not  have  been  standing  here  empty  all  these  years.  And  yet 
you  see  that  I  have  n't  changed  much ;  it  has  n't  really  made  a 
great  deal  of  difference  in  me.  I  have  had  my  hours  of  shame, 
and  I  have  suffered  —  a  little.  I  believe  I  am  incapable  of 
deep  feeling:  I  was  born  that  way.  If  I  appealed  to  your 
mercy  now,  I  should  be  lying.  And  for  a  long  time  I  have  lived 
the  truth  the  best  I  could.  I  believe  I  understand  the  value 
of  truth  and  honor,  too ;  I  believe  I  realize  the  value  of  such 
things  now.  I  'm  only  a  little  dancing  shadow  on  the  big 
screen;  but  I  mean  to  do  no  more  mischief;  not  if  I  can  help 
it,  and  I  think  that  at  last  I  have  mastered  myself.  You 
see,"  and  quite  composed  she  laughed  again,  "I'm  almost 
a  fool,  but  not  quite." 

He  murmured  something  as  she  paused,  but  she  did  not 
heed  him,  nor  ask  what  he  had  said.  He  was  not  so  relieved 
as  he  had  expected  to  be  by  her  prompt  refusal  of  his  offer, 
whose  fine  quixotism  he  felt  had  been  wasted  upon  her.  He 
was  nothing  to  her;  and  never  could  have  been;  and  this 
rejection  was  not  the  less  disagreeable  because  he  had  ex- 
pected it.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  any  circumstances  in 
which  a  man  will  accept  without  resentment  the  idea  that  he 
is  a  negligible  figure  in  a  woman's  life.  The  finer  his  nature 
the  greater  his  astonishment  at  finding  that  she  is  able  to 
complete  her  reckoning  without  including  him  as  a  factor 
in  her  calculations.  And  in  Kirkwood's  case  the  woman  had 
put  him  in  the  wrong  when  all  the  right  was  so  incontro- 
vertibly  on  his  side.  She  had  taken  high  ground  for  her  re- 
fusal, and  he  could  not  immediately  accommodate  himself  to 
the  air  of  this  new  altitude,  which  he  had  never  expected  to 


354  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

breathe  in  her  company.  Her  thistledown  nature  might  be 
the  prey  of  / the  winds,  but  even  so  they  might  bear  her  high 
and  far. 

"I  must  go  on  and  finish ,  for  there  will  never  be  another 
chance.  You  deserve  the  best  life  can  give  you.  I  'm  glad 
to  know  things  have  been  going  well  with  you;  and  Amzi 
says  it 's  only  the  beginning.  With  all  my  heart  I  'm  glad. 
It  makes  it  easier  for  me  —  don't  you  see !  And  I  know 
about  Nan  Bartlett;  not  from  Phil,  but  from  Mrs.  King. 
I  hope  you  will  marry  Nan ;  and  if  my  coming  has  made  any 
difference,  don't  let  that  trouble  you!  In  a  little  while  I 
shall  be  gone;  but  Phil  must  n't  know  that.  And  I  shall 
never  come  back  here  —  you  may  rely  on  that ;  but  I  hope 
to  have  Phil  come  to  me  now  and  then.  I  want  to  keep  in 
touch  with  her,  —  have  some  part  in  her  life.  And  you 
need  n't  fear  that  I  shan't  be  —  quite  a  proper  person  for 
Phil  to  visit!  You  will  believe  that,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  Lois,"  he  said  wonderingly;  for  he  was  touched  by 
the  wistfulness  of  her  plea  that  he  should  not  fear  her  influ- 
ence upon  Phil.  "You  would  n't  have  come  back  to  Phil 
unless  you  felt  you  had  a  right  to;  I'm  sure  of  that,"  he 
said  with  warmth. 

"No;  I  should  not  have  been  base  enough  for  that,"  she 
replied,  with  a  little  forlorn  sigh. 

"And  as  for  your  going  away,  it  must  not  be  on  my 
account.  It  is  n't  necessary  for  you  to  go." 

He  did  not  speak  of  Nan ;  nor  did  she  refer  to  her  again. 

"  I  'm  glad  this  has  happened  this  way.  I  think  we  under- 
stand a  little  better.  Good-night,  Tom!" 

"Good-night,  Lois!" 

Their  hands  touched.  He  saw  the  flutter  of  her  cloak  as 
she  passed  round  the  house,  seeking  the  path  to  Amzi's. 
The  garden  was  very  still  when  she  had  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE   SHERIFF 

THE  May  number  of  "Journey's  End"  containing  Phil's 
veracious  account  of  the  dogs  of  Main  Street  created  almost 
as  much  of  a  sensation  as  the  consolidation  of  the  First 
National  with  Montgomery's  Bank.  The  "Evening  Star" 
did  not  neglect  its  duty  to  Indiana  literature.  A  new  planet 
blazed  in  the  Hoosier  heavens,  and  it  was  the  business  of 
Montgomery's  enterprising  afternoon  daily  to  note  its  appear- 
ance and  speculate  upon  its  course  and  destiny.  The  "  Even- 
ing Star's"  "local"  wrote  a  two-column  "story"  about  Phil 
for  the  Sunday  supplement  of  the  Indianapolis  "Adver- 
tiser." The  fact  that  Miss  Kirkwood  belonged  to  one  of 
the  oldest  and  most  distinguished  families  in  central 
Indiana  was  not  overlooked;  but  this  was  merely  the  pre- 
lude to  a  breezy  description  of  her  many  adventures,  her 
athletic  prowess,  her  broad  democracy.  The  "Evening 
Star's"  "local"  was  under  obligations  to  Phil  for  many 
quiet  news  tips;  and  beyond  question  he  fully  balanced 
the  account.  The  pastor  of  Center  Church  made  "The 
Dogs  of  Main  Street"  the  text  of  a  sermon  on  the  humane 
treatment  of  dumb  animals  —  a  sermon  that  Phil  heard 
perforce,  as  she  sat,  blushing  furiously,  beside  Amzi  in  the 
Montgomery  pew. 

Amzi  nearly  perished  with  pride.  Busy  as  he  was  with  the 
remodeling  of  the  old  bank,  made  necessary  by  the  consoli- 
dation (he  scorned  the  idea  of  moving  his  bank  into  the  Hoi- 
ton  property !) ,  he  found  time  to  stand  on  the  bank  steps  and 
invite  comments  on  "Phil's  latest";  —  there  had  n't  been 
a  time  since  Phil  was  six  when  her  "latest "  was  n't  a  subject 
of  spirited  conversation.  Phil's  own  happiness  was  miti- 


356  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

gated  somewhat  by  the  fact  that  "Journey's  End  "  had  lately 
refused  two  other  manuscripts.  Still  the  editor  wrote  explain- 
ing why  her  stories  were  not  available  and  urged  her  to  try 
again.  "Stick  to  the  local  flavor,"  he  said,  "and  don't  read 
Stevenson  so  much.  Anybody  can  write  stories  about  the 
French  Revolution;  not  many  are  able  to  catch  the  char- 
acter and  life  of  Main  Street."  While  she  pondered  this,  she 
resolved  to  be  a  poet  and  sold  a  jingle  to  "Life." 

Kirkwood  wired  his  congratulations  from  Chicago.  He 
had  not  fully  recovered  from  the  shock  of  Lois's  declaration 
of  her  belief  in  Phil's  genius.  Reading  Phil's  sketch  over  a 
lonely  dinner  in  a  Chicago  hotel,  he  was  pricked  anew  by 
the  consciousness  that  he  had  never  fully  appreciated  Phil's 
qualities.  What  Lois  had  said  made  a  difference.  He  would 
have  chuckled  over  the  Philesque  touches  in  "The  Dogs 
of  Main  Street"  in  any  circumstances,  but  he  remembered 
enough  of  the  commencement  essay  to  value  her  changes, 
and  to  note  the  mark  of  the  file  on  certain  sentences.  The 
thing  had  form  and  something  akin  to  style.  While  he  had 
been  counseling  Nan  Bartlett  as  to  "The  Gray  Knight," 
writing  that  was  quite  as  individual  as  hers  had  been  done 
without  his  guidance  under  his  own  roof ! 

In  spite  of  his  professional  successes,  Fate  still  played 
pranks  with  him.  Nan  had  set  herself  determinedly  against 
the  idea  of  marrying  him,  and  his  assurance  that  Lois  had 
rejected  the  idea  of  remarriage,  even  for  Phil's  sake,  had 
not  shaken  her  resolution.  Lois's  return  had  dimmed  the 
glow  of  his  second  romance.  And  Nan  and  Rose  had  gone 
to  call  on  her  —  an  act  whose  finality  was  not  wasted  on 
Kirkwood. 

The  authorship  of  "The  Gray  Knight  of  Picardy"  was 
now  generally  known,  and  when  the  Bartletts  called  on 
Phil's  mother  the  talk  ran  naturally  upon  books  and  writ- 
ers; and  as  Nan  would  not  talk  of  herself,  Phil's  ambitions 
were  thoroughly  discussed.  Phil,  knowing  that  the  Bart- 
letts were  coming,  had  discreetly  taken  herself  off.  Lois's 
account  of  the  visit,  given  before  Amzi  at  the  dinner-table, 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF    357 

lacked  all  those  emotional  elements  which  Phil  had  assumed 
to  be  inevitable  where  a  man's  former  wife  describes  a  call 
from  a  woman  whom  that  man  has  been  at  the  point  of 
marrying.  Phil  had  not  lost  her  feeling  that  the  world  is  a 
queer  place. 

"They  are  splendid  women,  Amzi,"  Lois  declared.  "If 
you  don't  marry  Rose  pretty  soon,  I  shall  have  to  take  the 
matter  into  my  own  hands." 

"Thunder!     Rose  marry  me!"  Amzi  ejaculated. 

"Why  not ! "  Lois  answered,  composedly  dropping  a  lump 
of  sugar  into  his  coffee.  "Nan  can't  marry  you;  I  should 
never  have  chosen  you  for  Nan!" 

The  ice  cracked  ominously  and  Amzi  began  talking  about 
the  furniture  he  was  buying  for  the  new  bank.  Of  course 
Lois  knew !  Phil  had  no  doubts  on  that  point.  That  aston- 
ishing mother  of  hers  had  a  marvelous  gift  of  penetration. 
Phil's  adoration  was  increasing  as  the  days  passed.  It 
was  little  wonder  that  following  Mrs.  John  Newman 
King's  courageous  example,  people  seemed  to  be  in  haste 
to  leave  cards  at  Amzi's  for  Mrs.  Holton.  The  gossip  touch- 
ing Lois's  return  lost  its  scandalous  tinge  and  became  ami- 
able, as  her  three  sisters  were  painfully  aware.  The  "stand  " 
they  had  taken  in  support  of  their  private  dignity  and  virtue 
and  in  the  interest  of  public  morals  had  not  won  the  ap- 
plause they  had  counted  on.  People  to  whom  they  went 
for  sympathy  politely  changed  the  subject  when  they 
attempted  to  explain  themselves.  Mrs.  John  Newman  King 
told  the  pastor  of  Center  Church,  who  had  sought  her  advice 
as  to  his  own  duty,  that  she  hoped  he  would  n't  make  a  fool 
of  himself.  These  were  shocking  words  from  a  woman  who 
had  known  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  who  was  a  greater  power 
in  Center  Church  than  the  ruling  elders. 

The  Presbyterians  were  just  then  canvassing  the  town  in 
the  interest  of  a  projected  hospital,  and  the  "Evening  Star" 
printed  the  subscriptions  from  day  to  day.  Amzi's  name  led 
all  the  rest  with  one  thousand  dollars;  and  immediately 
below  his  modest  "A.  Montgomery,"  "Cash"  was  credited 


358  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

with  a  like  sum.  It  was  whispered  that  Lois  Montgomery 
Holton  was  the  anonymous  contributor.  Lois's  three  sisters 
were  appalled  by  the  increasing  rumors  that  their  erring 
sister  had  come  back  with  money.  It  was  a  sinful  thing,  if 
true;  they  vacillated  between  demanding  an  inquiry  as  to 
the  source  of  the  unknown  contributor's  cash  or  boldly 
suing  for  peace  with  Lois  and  Amzi.  And  to  add  to  their 
rage,  they  knew  that  neither  Lois  nor  Amzi  cared  a  pica- 
yune whether  peace  was  restored  or  not.  Lois's  sisters  were 
not  the  first  among  humankind  to  conclude  that  there  is  a 
difference  between  Sin  begging  bread  and  Sin  with  cake  to 
throw  away. 

Lois's  automobile  dazzled  Main  Street  at  this  juncture. 
The  William  Holton  car,  splendid  as  it  had  been  in  its  day, 
was  a  junk-pile  compared  to  it.  The  accompanying  chauf- 
feur received,  it  was  said,  a  salary  of  seventy-five  dollars 
a  month.  Public  interest  fastened  upon  this  person.  A 
crowd  that  gathered  in  front  of  the  old  bank  to  inspect  the 
car  on  the  day  that  Lois  and  Phil  brought  it  home  from 
Indianapolis  heard  Mrs.  Holton  address  him  in  a  strange 
tongue.  By  nightfall  every  one  in  Montgomery  knew  that 
Lois  had  bought  the  most  expensive  car  in  town;  that  her 
chauffeur  was  French,  and  that  she  gave  him  orders  in  his 
own  language  just  as  though  she  had  spoken  it  all  her  life. 
Main  Street  was  impressed;  all  Montgomery  felt  the  thrill 
of  these  departures  from  its  usual,  normal  life. 

Lawrence  Hastings  carried  home  details  as  to  the  "make, " 
horse-power  and  finish  of  the  machine  that  caused  his 
wife  and  two  sisters-in-law  indescribable  anguish.  Still 
the  French  chauffeur  was  a  consoling  feature;  a  vulnerable 
target  for  their  arrows.  No  woman  who  valued  her  reputa- 
tion would  go  gallivanting  over  the  country  with  a  foreign 
chauffeur,  when  it  was  the  duty  of  Montgomery  people  to 
employ  worthy  college  boys  to  run  their  machines  whenever 
possible.  The  sight  of  Phil  at  the  wheel,  receiving  instruc- 
tions in  the  management  of  the  big  car  on  the  day  after  its 
arrival,  did  not  greatly  add  to  their  joy  in  life.  The  exposure 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF     359 

of  Phil  to  the  malign  influences  of  a  French  chauffeur  was 
another  of  Lois's  sins  that  did  not  pass  unremarked.  Still 
the  stars  would  not  always  fight  against  righteousness;  Phil 
would  be  killed,  or  she  would  elope  with  the  Frenchman, 
and  Amzi  would  be  sorry  he  had  brought  Lois  home  and  set 
her  up  brazenly  in  the  house  of  her  fathers. 

Amzi,  rolling  home  to  luncheon  in  the  new  car  and  rolling 
off  again  with  his  cigar  at  a  provoking  angle,  was  not  un- 
observed from  behind  the  shutters  of  his  sisters'  houses. 
In  the  bank  merger  he  had  acquired  various  slips  of  paper 
that  bore  the  names  of  his  sisters  and  their  husbands,  aggre- 
gating something  like  seven  thousand  dollars,  which  the 
drawers  and  indorsers  thereof  were  severally  unable  to  pay. 
The  payment  of  the  April  interest  and  the  general  bright 
outlook  in  Sycamore  affairs  had  induced  a  local  sentiment 
friendly  to  the  company  that  had  already  lost  Waterman 
one  damage  suit.  Fosdick  thought  he  saw  a  way  of  making 
his  abandoned  brickyard  pay  if  he  could  only  command  a 
little  ready  cash.  Hastings  had  not  forgotten  Phil's  sugges- 
tion that  he  transform  his  theater  into  a  moving-picture 
house:  there  were  indications  that  the  highbrows  were  about 
to  make  the  "reel "  respectable  in  New  York,  and  a  few  thou- 
sand dollars  would  hitch  Montgomery  to  the  new  "move- 
ment" for  dramatic  uplift.  And  here  was  Amzi  soaring 
high  in  the  financial  heavens,  with  a  sister  who  gave  a  thou- 
sand dollars  to  a  hospital  without  even  taking  credit  for  her 
munificence ! 

Amzi  and  Lois  enjoyed  themselves  without  let  or  hin- 
drance from  their  neighboring  sisters.  Packages  arrived  by 
express;  decorators  from  Indianapolis  came  and  went;  furni- 
ture was  unpacked  in  the  front  yard ;  and  a  long  stone  bench 
and  a  sundial  appeared  in  Amzi's  lawn,  together  with  a  pool, 
in  the  center  of  which  an  impudent  little  god  piped  joyfully 
in  a  cloud  of  spray.  Such  trifles  as  these  testified  to  the  pre- 
vailing cheer  of  Amzi's  establishment. 

The  fact  that  Fred  Holton  had  turned  his  farm  over  to 
Kirkwood  was  public  property  now;  and  people  were  say- 


360  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

ing  that  it  was  fine  of  Amzi  to  give  Fred  employment.  The 
way  in  which  the  Holtons  crossed  and  recrossed  the  trail  of 
the  Montgomerys  had  been  the  subject  of  much  discussion. 
But  the  situation  was  clearing  in  so  far  as  the  Holtons  were 
concerned.  William  had  removed  to  Chicago  to  begin  life 
anew;  and  Jack  had  vanished  utterly,  the  day  following  the 
collapse  of  the  panic.  Charles,  too,  had  disappeared.  It  was 
believed  that  Kirkwood  had  recovered  enough  from  Sam- 
uel's associates  in  the  construction  company  to  balance  the 
deficiencies  occasioned  by  fradulent  construction  and  that 
he  was  not  particularly  interested  in  Charles's  whereabouts. 

"How  about  taking  a  look  at  the  farm?"  asked  Amzi  one 
Saturday  afternoon.  "Fred's  planting  corn  and  we'll  see 
how  the  country  looks." 

Lois  and  Phil  agreed  that  this  was  a  capital  idea  and  they 
set  off  in  high  spirits. 

As  they  approached  the  farm,  Jack  Whittlesey,  the 
sheriff,  passed  on  horseback. 

"Looks  bad  for  somebody,"  said  Phil. 

"What  does?"  asked  Amzi. 

"When  Jack  goes  out  on  his  horse,  it's  a  sign  somebody's 
going  to  jail." 

"Only  serving  subpoenas,  I  reckon,"  said  Amzi. 

They  espied  Fred  driving  a  corn-planter  across  a  long 
level  field,  and  stopped  the  car.  He  ran  to  the  fence  to  talk 
to  them,  and  they  all  alighted.  It  was  a  warm  afternoon  and 
he  mopped  his  face  with  a  big  bandanna  as  he  talked  to  them. 
He  rested  his  arms  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  playing  with 
his  cap  —  not  the  disreputable  old  coonskin  with  which  Phil 
had  become  familiar  that  winter,  but  the  regular  Madison 
College  cap  with  a  scarlet  "M"  above  the  visor. 

"In  the  words  of  the  poet,"  began  Phil,  "where  did  you 
get  that  hat?" 

"This?  Oh,  the  day  of  the  Main  Street  rumpus  I  lost 
mine  and  one  of  the  boys  lent  me  his.  I  meant  to  get  him 
another,  but  I  have  n't  been  to  town  since.  And  besides,  I  've 
forgotten  his  name." 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF     36! 

14  That 's  George  Nesbit's  cap/'  Phil  answered,  after  eyeing 
it  critically.  "I  know  because  it's  an  old  style  nobody  else 
wore  this  year.  George  lives  at  the  Phi  Gam  house,  if  you 
care  for  his  address." 

"I  hope  you  don't  know  them  all  as  well  as  that,  Phil," 
remarked  Lois. 

"She  does,"  chuckled  Amzi;  "she  does,  indeed." 

Amzi  and  Fred  dealt  in  technicalities.  The  green  of  young 
wheat  caught  the  eye  in  the  distances.  These  were  Amzi's 
acres;  the  Holton  farm  lay  beyond  —  the  land  that  had  been 
Fred's.  In  February,  Phil  and  Amzi  had  driven  out  one  after- 
noon and  had  found  Fred  sowing  clover  seed  over  the  snow- 
covered  wheat  in  his  own  field.  Her  imagination  took  fire  at 
all  these  processes.  "A  calendar  might  be  laid  out  in  great 
squares  upon  the  earth,"  she  had  written  in  her  notebook, 
"and  the  months  would  tell  their  own  stories."  It  was  all  a 
great  wonder,  that  man  had  learned  so  perfectly  how  to  draw 
from  the  mute  soil  its  sweetness  and  vigor.  Nothing  man  did 
seemed  more  interesting  than  this  tilling  and  sowing.  She 
noted  how  even  snow  had  its  use  in  catching  and  holding  seed 
against  the  wind,  and  watched  the  sower  marking  his  own 
progress  and  regulating  the  distribution  by  his  tracks.  Ulti- 
mately the  clover  would  give  its  own  life  to  nourish  and 
strengthen  the  wheat — these  things  kindled  her  fancy. 
Here  was  poetry  in  the  making,  with  suns  and  frosts,'  rains 
and  snows  taking  their  part  in  it.  And  Fred  felt  it  too;  she 
knew  that.  In  his  shy,  guarded  way  he  had  spoken  of  it. 
But  to-day  he  was  not  a  dreamer  but  a  man  of  action. 

"Got  all  the  help  you  want,  Fred?"  Amzi  was  asking. 

"Yes,  sir.  No  troubles.  I'm  using  my  old  place  for  a 
boarding-house  for  the  hands.  Suppose  you  won't  stay  for 
supper?"  he  suggested,  a  little  perfunctorily. 

"Just  because  you  're  so  enthusiastic,  we  will !  But  we  Ve 
brought  our  own  fodder  —  Phil  packed  the  hamper;  enough 
for  a  couple  of  regiments.  We  '11  meet  you  at  my  house  at 
supper-time  and  have  an  indoors  picnic." 

They  waited  to  watch  him  start  the  team.  Phil  took  the 


362  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

wheel,  and  as  they  rolled  away  Lois  and  Amzi  exchanged  a 
glance. 

"You  trust  him?  "  she  asked,  glancing  meaningly  at  Phil's 
back. 

"Thunder!"  said  Amzi;  "I  don't  know  about  that." 

"It  might  be  worse,"  Lois  replied,  and  her  brother  looked 
at  her  in  surprise. 

"He's  a  straightforward,  manly  fellow;  seems  to  have 
escaped  the  family  curse.  It  must  be  this" —  Lois  indicated 
the  fields  —  "that  makes  the  difference.  There's  a  moral 
influence  in  it;  and," 'she  added  with  a  smile,  "there's 
always  a  market  for  corn." 

"  He's  as  square  a  chap  as  they  make  'em,  but  as  for 
that — "  and  he  nodded  towards  Phil. 

"  It  is  n't  for  us  to  say,  brother,  but  I  believe  I  should 
trust  him ;  and  they  seem  to  understand  each  other.  He 's 
far  from  stupid,  and  the  kind  of  man  to  watch  over  her  and 
protect  her." 

These  utterances  greatly  astonished  Amzi.  He  wondered 
whether  Lois's  own  experiences  were  responsible  for  her  feel- 
ing that  Phil  needed  a  protector,  and  her  frankly  expressed 
liking  for  Fred  in  that  connection.  He  was  surprised  but 
not  displeased  though  the  thought  of  Phil's  marrying  gave 
him  a  distinct  shock  when  considered  concretely.  He  never 
dissociated  it  from  the  remembrance  of  Lois's  tragedies. 

They  found  Amzi's  house  in  order.  Phil  lighted  the  open 
fire  to  take  the  chill  from  the  living-room,  which  had  been 
closed  since  the  Perrys'  departure.  Amzi  ran  off  in  the 
machine  to  pay  a  visit  to  one  of  the  county  commissioners 
who  lived  near  by :  LoisVith  her  usual  adaptability  produced 
a  novel  and  made  herself  comfortable  on  a  couch.  She  was 
absorbed  in  her  book  before  Phil  left  the  room.  Her  mother's 
ready  detachment  never  ceased  to  astonish  her.  Sometimes 
in  the  midst  of  a  lively  conversation,  Lois  would  abruptly 
take  up  a  book,  or  turn  away  humming  to  look  out  of  the  near- 
est window.  Her  ways  had  been  disconcerting  at  first,  but 
Phil  had  grown  used  to  them.  It  argued  for  the  complete- 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF    363 

ness  of  their  understanding  that  these  dismissals  were  pos- 
sible. Her  mother's  love  of  ease  and  luxury ;  the  pretty  knick- 
knacks  she  kept  about  her;  her  deftness  in  self-adornment  — 
the  little  touches  she  gave  to  a  hat  that  utterly  re-created 
it — never  failed  to  fascinate  Phil. 

Having  disposed  of  her  mother,  or  rather,  that  lady  having 
forgotten  her  existence,  Phil  climbed  the  blossomy  orchard 
slope  and  looked  off  toward  Listening  Hill.  How  many 
things  had  happened  since  that  fall  afternoon  when  she  had 
talked  there  with  Fred!  Life  that  had  seemed  simple  just 
then  had  since  shown  her  its  complexities.  She  watched 
Fred's  slow  progress  with  the  corn-planter  in  the  field  below. 

Glancing  again  at  Listening  Hill  road  her  wandering  gaze 
fell  upon  a  horse  and  rider.  Her  eye,  delighting  in  the  pic- 
turesque at  all  times,  was  alive  to  the  strong,  vigorous  lines 
in  which  man  and  horse  were  drawn  against  the  blue  May 
sky.  They  gained  the  crest  of  the  road,  and  the  man  turned 
in  his  saddle  and  swept  the  surrounding  fields  in  a  prolonged 
inspection.  She  looked  away  and  then  sought  the  figures 
again,  but  they  had  disappeared.  A  little  cloud  of  dust  rose 
in  the  hollow  toward  Turkey  Run.  It  was  undoubtedly  big 
Jack  Whittlesey,  the  sheriff.  The  idea  of  one  man  hunting 
another  was  repugnant  to  Phil  to-day,  in  this  bright.wakened 
world  of  green  fields,  cheery  bird  song  and  laughing  waters. 
She  ran  down  the  hill  to  escape  from  the  very  thought  of 
sheriffs  and  prisons,  and  set  off  for  the  creek,  following  the 
Montgomery-Holton  fence  toward  the  Holton  barn,  whither 
the  music  had  lured  her  that  night  of  the  change  o'  the  year 
when  she  had  danced  among  the  corn  shocks.  The  laborers 
were  all  off  at  work  and  no  one  was  in  sight. 

It  was  a  very  respectable-looking  barn  now  that  Fred  had 
patched  its  weather-beaten  sides  and  painted  it.  She  flung 
back  the  door  to  revisualize  her  recollection  of  the  dance. 
The  bang  of  the  sliding  door  roused  a  hen  to  noisy  protest, 
and  it  sought  the  open  with  a  wild  beating  of  wings.  The  hen 
had  emerged  from  the  manger  of  an  unused  stall,  and  in 
feeling  under  the  corn-trough  for  eggs,  Phil  touched  some 


364  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

alien  object.  She  gave  a  tug  that  brought  to  light  a  corner  of 
brown  leather,  found  handles,  and  drew  out  a  suit-case.  She 
was  about  to  thrust  it  back  when  "  C.  H."  in  small  black  let- 
ters arrested  her  eye.  It  was  an  odd  place  for  the  storing  of 
luggage  and  her  curiosity  was  keenly  aroused.  She  had  seen 
and  heard  nothing  of  Charles  Holton  since  the  night  he  had 
taken  her  to  the  lecture,  and  barns  were  not  likely  camping- 
places  for  gentlemen  of  his  fastidious  tastes. 

A  step  on  the  planked  approach  to  the  barn  caused  her  to 
thrust  the  case  back  under  the  corn-box.  She  sprang  toward 
the  door,  and  faced  Jack  Whittlesey,  who  grinned  and  took 
off  his  hat. 

"'Lo,  Phil!" 

"'Lo,  Jack!" 

"Stealing  eggs,  Phil?" 

"The  hen  deceived  me;  nothing  doing." 

"Passed  you  on  the  way  out.  Hardly  know  your  old 
friends  now  you've  set  up  a  machine,  I  reckon." 

"Cut  that  out,  Jack,  and  feed  it  to  the  larks.  You  had 
only  ten  votes  to  spare  when  you  were  elected  and  I  landed 
seven  of  them  for  you,  so  don't  be  gay  with  me." 

" I  'm  not  gay;  I  'm  tired.   I  'm  looking  for  a  party." 

"What's  your  friend's  name?"  asked  Phil,  picking -up  a 
straw  and  chewing  it. 

"That  would  be  telling.  You  have  n't  seen  a  man  chasing 
over  the  country  with  a  brown  suit-case,  have  you?" 

"Nope;  nor  with  a  black,  pink,  or  green  one.  Where 
does  the  story  begin?" 

"Well,  not  in  my  county.  They  send  all  the  hard  jobs 
out  to  us  farmers.  Suppose  there  's  anybody  in  this  barn?" 

"There  was  a  hen;  but  she  went  off  mad  when  I  came  in. 
You  'd  better  go  back  and  pose  on  Listening  Hill  again ;  you 
looked  rather  well  there  —  a  lone  picket  on  an  Alp  watching 
for  Napoleon's  advance. 

He  saw  afar 

The  coming  host,  but  thought  the  glint  of  arms, 
Betokened  milk-cans  in  some  peasant's  cart,"  — 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF    365 

Phil  added,  bending  forward  and  shading  her  eyes  with  her 
hand. 

Whittlesey,  knowing  Phil  well,  laughed  his  appreciation 
absently. 

"He's  been  dodgin'  up  and  down  the  creek  here  for  two 
days,  trying  to  muster  nerve  enough  to  hit  the  trolley  and 
clear  out.  There 's  a  nice  bunch  of  plunder  in  his  suit-case." 

"  Rich  man,  poor  man,  beggar  man,  thief?"  Phil  repeated 
—  touching  the  buttons  on  her  shirt-waist. 

"That  would  be  tellin'." 

"Well,  don't  tell,  then.  But  not  mentioning  any  names 
that  particular  person  would  n't  be  likely  to  hang  around 
here,"  suggested  Phil  meditatively. 

The  sheriff  eyed  her  critically. 

"You  know  who  I  mean?  Sure  you  ain't  seen  him?" 

"No,  I  haven't,  Jack,"  replied  Phil  truthfully. 

"If  you  spot  a  gent  with  a  suit-case,  hop  for  a  telephone 
and  call  the  jail,  and  mebbe  I  '11  whack  the  reward." 

"It  does  n't  sound  like  such  easy  money,"  Phil  replied. 

"Charlie  and  Fred  ain't  so  terribly  chummy,  I  guess," 
remarked  the  sheriff  leadingly.  "That's  why  I  thought  I  'd 
take  a  look  around  here.  A  fellow  as  smart  as  Charlie  would 
pick  the  unlikeliest  place  to  hide  in.  I  '11  have  a  word  with 
Fred  as  I  go  back.  I  got  a  deputy  at  Stop  7,  watching  the 
cars.  If  Charlie  's  in  the  neighborhood  we'll  pinch  him  all 
right.  So  long,  Phil." 

Whittlesey  moved  across  the  barn-lot  toward  his  horse. 
Phil's  mind  had  been  working  busily.  Beyond  doubt  Charles 
Holton  was  lurking  in  the  neighborhood,  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  escape.  The  suit-case  pointed  to  this  clearly.  It  was  un- 
deniably her  duty  to  tell  the  sheriff  of  her  discovery,  and  it 
had  been  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  do  so  half  a  dozen  times 
during  their  colloquy  at  the  barn  door.  Whittlesey  was  an 
old  friend  and  one  of  her  admirations,  and  it  was  only  the 
part  of  good  comradeship  to  help  him. 

The  remembrance  of  her  last  meeting  with  Charles  still 
flamed  angrily  in  her  heart  when  she  thought  of  him.  There 


366  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

was  certainly  no  reason  why  she  should  shield  him  from  the 
outstretched  arm  of  the  law;  yet  she  had  first  hesitated,  then 
rejected  the  idea  of  communicating  to  the  sheriff  her  knowl- 
edge that  the  plunder  with  which  Charles  was  seeking  to 
escape  was  hidden  in  the  barn.  Contemptible  as  Charles 
was  and  doubtless  deserving  of  his  impending  punishment, 
she  would  not  aid  in  his  apprehension.  She  did  not  believe 
that  Fred  in  like  circumstances  would  do  so ;  and  there  was 
Ethel,  their  sister,  on  whom  the  disgrace  of  Charles's  arrest 
would  fall  heavily. 

Whittlesey  swung  himself  into  his  saddle  and  rode  slowly 
toward  the  highway.  Phil  returned  to  the  barn,  considering 
whether  she  should  tell  Fred  of  her  discovery  of  the  suit-case. 

She  stopped  short  on  the  threshold,  all  her  senses  alert. 
The  rear  door  of  the  barn  had  been  opened  during  her  brief 
absence.  She  saw  across  the  fields  the  trees  that  marked  the 
Turkey  Run  defile,  and  she  was  confident  that  this  long  vista 
had  not  been  visible  when  she  first  entered.  She  took  a  step 
toward  the  stall  where  she  had  found  the  suit-case,  looked 
round  cautiously  before  bending  down  to  draw  it  out  again, 
and  a  pair  of  eyes  met  hers,  unmistakably  Charles  Helton's 
eyes,  fear-struck,  as  he  peered  across  a  farm  wagon  behind 
which  he  had  concealed  himself.  While  she  had  been  talking 
to  Whittlesey  in  the  barn-lot,  he  had  stolen  in  by  the 
rear  door  to  be  nearer  his  booty. 

Phil  walked  to  the  door  and  glanced  toward  Listening  Hill. 
A  quarter  of  a  mile  away  she  saw  Whittlesey  and  Fred  con- 
versing, earnestly  at  the  edge  of  the  cornfield.  No  one  else 
was  in  sight.  The  farm  hands  were  scattered  over  the  fields, 
and  were  not  likely  to  visit  the  barn  until  they  brought  home 
their  teams.  Phil,  standing  in  the  door,  spoke  in  a  low  tone. 

"You  can  get  away,  by  the  back  door.  The  sheriff's  talk- 
ing to  Fred  down  the  lane;  his  man  's  watching  Stop  7.  Go 
back  to  the  Run  and  follow  it  to  the  red  covered  bridge.  Keep 
away  from  the  trolley  line ;  they  're  watching  it.  Better  make 
for  Gaston's  and  take  the  Chicago  train  there  —  it  comes 
along  a  little  before  five." 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF    367 

He  was  furtively  creeping  round  the  wagon  while  Phil 
spoke.  She  heard  the  creaking  of  the  planks  and  turned  to 
see  him  tiptoeing  toward  the  stall.  His  clothing  was  soiled 
and  crumpled.  His  bent,  slinking  figure  as  he  stole  toward 
his  booty  affected  her  disagreeably.  She  took  a  step  toward 
him. 

"You  can't  do  that;  you  can't  have  that." 

"  It 's  all  the  baggage  I  've  got ;  just  a  few  clothes,"  he  mut- 
tered huskily.  "I  crawled  in  here  last  night  to  sleep.  I've 
got  to  see  Fred  before  I  go.  I  've  been  waiting  two  days  for  a 
chance  to  get  to  him." 

He  watched  her  with  fearful  intentness  as  he  continued 
his  cautious  advance  upon  the  stall. 

"You  can't  have  that  suit-case,"  said  Phil  in  a  sharper 
tone.  "Go  out  by  fhe  rear  door,  and  keep  close  to  the  fence. 
There 's  nobody  in  those  fields,  and  I  '11  watch  till  you  get  to 
the  creek." 

"I  want  my  things;  I've  got  to  have  them,"  he  blurted 
hoarsely,  his  hand  on  the  stall-post. 

"You  can't  have  it.  If  you  don't  go  at  once  I  '11  call  the 
sheriff  back.  There's  nothing  in  that  suit-case  you  need. 
Quick!  Whittlesey  knows  you're  around  here  somewhere, 
and  if  it  had  n't  been  for  me  he'd  have  searched  the  barn." 

"He's  a  fool.  I  heard  his  talk  through  the  cracks,  and 
there 's  nothing  in  that  case  but  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  I  've 
got  to  have  it.  It 's  all  I  Ve  got  in  the  world." 

"Then  you  won't  miss  it  much!  I  'm  giving  you  a  chance 
to  get  away.  If  you  don't  take  it  and  clear  out  in  ten  seconds, 
I  '11  call  Whittlesey.  He's  still  talking  to  Fred  just  a  little 
way  down  the  lane." 

As  she  turned  to  reassure  herself  of  the  fact,  he  made  a  dive 
for  the  suit-case,  brought  it  out  and  rushed  toward  the  rear 
door.  His  foot  caught  on  the  edge  of  a  rough  plank  and  he 
fell  headlong,  the  case  flying  from  his  hand.  Phil  pounced 
upon  it,  flung  it  with  all  her  strength  into  the  farthest  corner 
of  the  barn,  pulled  him  to  his  feet,  and  pushed  him  through 
the  door.  She  drew  it  shut,  jerked  the  bar  into  place,  and  ran 


368  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

through  the  front  door  into  the  barn-lot.  She  continued 
running  until  she  had  gained  the  mound  on  which  the  house 
stood.  She  reasoned  that  the  fugitive  would  hardly  venture 
to  reenter  the  barn,  as  this  would  bring  him  into  the  open  lot 
with  a  possibility  of  encountering  new  foes.  She  saw  him 
presently  stealing  along  the  edge  of  the  field  toward  the 
creek,  dodging  along  the  stake-and-rider  fence  and  pausing 
frequently  to  rest  or  make  sure  that  he  was  not  followed.  She 
saw  Whittlesey  bid  Fred  good-bye,  watched  the  young 
farmer  return  to  his  corn-planting,  and  heard  his  voice  as 
he  called  cheerily  to  the  horses. 

Charles  gained  the  edge  of  the  ravine,  clambered  over  the 
fence,  and  disappeared.  Then  Phil  sighed  deeply  and  shud- 
dered ;  the  fear  in  the  man's  eyes  had  not  been  good  to  see ; 
and  yet  she  had  been  touched  with  pity  for  him.  The  night 
he  had  taunted  her  about  her  mother  she  had  taken  the 
measure  of  his  baseness ;  but  she  was  glad  she  had  helped  him 
to  escape.  If  there  was  really  anything  of  value  in  the  suit- 
case, as  Whittlesey  had  said,  the  law  might  have  it  and  wel- 
come ;  and  she  was  already  wondering  just  how  to  dispose  of  it. 
If  Charles  followed  her  instructions,  he  would  strike  across 
country  and  catch  the  northbound  evening  train.  His  fate 
was  out  of  her  hands,  and  it  was  wholly  unlikely  that  he 
would  make  any  further  effort  to  regain  his  property  now 
that  Phil  had  seen  it.  She  doubted  whether  he  had  had  any 
real  errand  with  Fred.  It  was  much  more  probable  that  chance 
alone  had  directed  his  steps  to  this  neighborhood,  and  that 
all  he  wanted  was  to  beg  his  brother's  protection  and  aid. 
Now  that  the  excitement  of  the  episode  had  passed,  Phil  hid 
the  bag  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  corn-crib  and  continued  her 
tramp. 

Fred,  having  gone  for  a  shower  and  change  of  raiment,  was 
late  to  the  supper  that  Phil  spread  in  the  dining-room  of  the 
Montgomery  farmhouse.  He  seemed  unusually  grave  when 
they  met  at  the  table,  and  Phil  surmised  that  Whittlesey 
had  discussed  Charles's  plight  with  him  fully.  Amzi  had 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF     369 

spent  an  enjoyable  afternoon  cruising  in  the  neighborhood 
among  his  farmer  friends,  and  was  in  the  best  of  humor. 
Lois,  who  had  taken  her  ease,  reading  and  napping,  declared 
that  she  must  cultivate  a  closer  acquaintance  with  farm  life. 
She  pronounced  it  immensely  interesting,  feigning  to  ignore 
the  ironical  glances  exchanged  by  Phil  and  Amzi.  She  ex- 
claimed in  a  mockery  of  rapture  over  a  bowl  of  scentless 
wild  violets  which  Phil  had  gathered.  They  were  amazingly 
fragrant,  she  said,  waving  her  hand  lately  splashed  with 
toilet  water. 

"The  fraud!  She  hasn't  been  out  of  the  house,"  Phil 
remarked  to  Amzi. 

"Why  should  I  go  out  and  walk  over  the  clods  in  my  best 
slippers?  I  don't  return  to  Nature;  Nature  returns  to  me. 
It's  much  pleasanter  that  way."  She  nibbled  a  sandwich, 
elbows  on  table,  and  asked  if  Montgomery  still  indulged 
itself  in  picnics,  a  form  of  recreation  which  she  associated 
only  with  a  youthful  horror  of  chigres. 

"Met  Jack  Whittlesey  again,  on  my  way  back,"  said 
Amzi.  "What's  he  hanging  round  here  for?" 

Fred  looked  up  suddenly,  the  color  deepening  in  his 
face. 

"Jack's  always  looking  for  somebody,"  said  Phil  lamely, 
seeking  to  turn  the  talk.  "  He  must  dream  that  he's  looking 
for  people.  I  should  n't  like  his  job." 

"He's  looking  for  Charlie,"  said  Fred,  raising  his  head 
squarely  and  speaking  directly  across  the  table  to  Amzi. 
"Jack  thinks  he's  hiding  about  here  somewhere." 

Amzi  blew  out  his  cheeks  to  hide  his  embarrassment.  It 
was  not  his  way  to  cause  pain,  and  there  was  a  hurt,  unhappy 
look  in  Fred's  eyes.  And  Amzi  liked  Fred  —  liked  his 
simplicity  and  earnestness,  and  stubborn  pluck,  his  manly 
attitude  in  adversity. 

"How  absurd,"  murmured  Lois,  regarding  critically  one 
of  Phil's  deviled  eggs,  made,  by  the  way,  after  Rose  Bartlett's 
recipe. 

"I  thought  that  was  all  a  bluff  about  dragging  Charlie 


370  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

into  the  traction  business,"  remarked  Amzi,  who  had  not 
thought  anything  of  the  kind. 

"He  never  surrendered  the  bonds  he  got  from  father," 
said  Fred,  relieved,  now  that  the  matter  had  been  broached, 
that  he  could  speak  of  Charlie's  plight  to  friendly  hearers. 
"Jack  said  he  was  trying  to  get  away  with  them,  and  there 's 
an  indictment  against  him  at  Indianapolis." 

"Oh,  they  won't  catch  him,"  said  Lois  in  her  spacious 
fashion.  "They  never  catch  anybody." 

This  was  a  well-intentioned  effort  to  eliminate  Charles 
and  his  troubles  from  the  conversation;  but  Fred,  not 
heeding,  spoke  again  directly  to  Amzi. 

"I  think  it  was  n't  altogether  Charlie's  fault  that  he  got 
mixed  up  in  this.  The  temptation  to  keep  the  bonds  must 
have  been  strong.  But  he  ought  to  have  turned  them  over. 
I  can't  defend  his  not  doing  it." 

Amzi  was  still  annoyed  by  his  unfortunate  reference  to 
the  sheriff.  He  fumbled  in  his  breast  pocket  and  drew  out 
a  brown  envelope. 

"I've  got  something  for  you,  Fred,  that  ought  to  cheer 
you  up.  Charlie's  troubles  have  n't  anything  to  do  with 
you.  Here 's  the  deed  you  gave  Mr.  Kirkwood  for  your  farm. 
It's  never  been  recorded,  and  it  stands  as  though  it  had 
never  been  made.  I  told  Tom  he  had  got  back  enough  money 
to  straighten  up  the  Sycamore  business  out  of  those  con- 
struction fellows  without  taking  your  farm,  and  here  you 
are.  I  Ve  been  holding  it  a  little  while  just  to  see  how  you 
would  take  your  troubles.  Burn  it;  and  now  let's  forget 
about  Charlie." 

Fred  stared,  frowning,  at  the  deed  which  Amzi  tossed 
across  the  table. 

"This  isn't  right;  it  isn't  square,"  he  began. 

"Be  careful  how  you  sign  papers.  You  may  not  get  'em 
back  the  next  time.  They  tried  to  swindle  you  out  of  your 
share  in  your  father's  estate  —  a  clean  case  on  Charlie's 
part,  as  everybody  knows.  You  need  n't  worry  about 
Charlie.  He  got  a  lot  of  stuff  that  never  figured  in  his 


PHIL  ENCOUNTERS  THE  SHERIFF     371 

administrator's  inventory.  The  Sycamore  Company's 
perfectly  satisfied  with  what's  been  wrung  out  of  the  other 
fellows,  and  if  Charlie  really  has  some  of  those  bonds,  they 
belong  to  you." 

Lois^  shrugged  her  shoulders.  The  subject  was  distaste- 
ful. Discussions  of  disagreeable  business  affairs  were  not  to 
her  liking;  and  she  was  sincerely  sorry  for  Fred's  discom- 
fiture. 

"The  sheriff's  mistaken,"  remarked  Phil.  "Charlie 
has  n't  any  of  those  bonds,  and  Jack  won't  catch  him;  not 
to-day." 

At  an  early  age  Phil  had  learned  the  dramatic  value  of 
downright  statements.  She  helped  herself  to  an  olive  and 
waited  for  Amzi  to  explode.  He  exploded  immediately. 

"Charlie  has  n't  them!  Jack  won't  catch  him?" 

"Of  course  not.  I  have  the  bonds  and  Charlie's  a  long 
way  from  here  by  this  time." 

She  recounted  her  meeting  with  Charles  in  the  Holton 
barn,  and  when  they  expressed  incredulity,  she  sprang  up 
and  darted  from  the  room.  When  she  reappeared  with  the 
suit-case  and  dumped  its  contents  on  the  table,  Amzi,  nar- 
rowly averting  apoplexy,  counted  the  bonds  carefully,  and 
made  a  calculation  of  the  accrued  and  unpaid  interest. 

"Thunder!"  he  blurted.  "Now,  look  here,  Fred,  don't 
you  do  anything  foolish !  We  '11  stack  these  up  in  the  bank 
until  Kirkwood  can  pass  on  this  business.  He  might  have 
them  annulled,  I  suppose;  but  we'll  wait  and  see." 

"You  would  n't  have  Fred  steal  them,  Amy!" 

"Steal  them!  Thunder!  We'll  run  'em  through  the  estate 
and  out  to  Fred  again.  I  guess  Charlie  took  care  of  his  sister 
in  the  original  whack ;  but  if  he  did  n't  we  '11  give  her  a  slice." 
He  glared  at  Phil  fiercely.  "You,  Phil!" 

"What's  the  matter,  Amy?" 

"You  lied  to  the  sheriff  of  this  county!" 

"  If  you  talk  to  me  like  that  I  '11  most  certainly  muss  you ; 

I  will,  I  will!" 

"You  concealed  stolen  property!   You  helped  a  fugitive 


372  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

to  escape  from  justice !  You  —  you  — ! "  Words  failing  him, 
he  bent  over  the  table,  shaking  an  accusing  finger  under  her 
nose. 

"Forget  it,  Amy!  If  I  did  I  glory  in  my  shame.  Put  that 
in  your  pipe.  Incidentally,  it  occurs  to  me  that  it's  about 
time  to  think  of  going  home." 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  all  this,"  said  Fred  as  they 
rose  from  the  table.  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  the 
deep  feeling  showing  in  his  face.  "  It  was  fine  of  you,  Phil, 
to  help  Charlie  get  away;  I  appreciate  that.  I  want  to  say 
again  that  I  think  Charlie  means  all  right.  He's  the  best- 
hearted  fellow  in  the  world." 

"Well,"  said  Lois  kindly,  "we  hope  he  will  find  another 
chance  and  make  good."  Then  after  a  moment  she  added: 
"We  most  of  us  need  two  chances  in  this  world,  and  some 
of  us  three! " 

"And  about  the  farm,  I  did  n't  expect  that:  I 'm  not  sure 
it's  right  to  take  it  back,"  said  Fred.  "I  want  to  do  the 
square  thing." 

"Thunder!"  ejaculated  Amzi;  and  then,  seeing  that  Phil 
was  already  engaged  in  repacking  the  hamper  with  the  empty 
dishes  he  turned  upon  her  with  his  mock  fury  and  demanded 
that  she  give  him  another  pickled  peach  before  the  jar  was 
disposed  of. 

"Get  that  article  at  my  house,  Phil?" 

Phil  walked  close  to  him  and  shouted  in  his  ear  as  to  a 
deaf  man :  — 

"No,  you  grand  old  imbecile!  Anybody  but  you  would 
know  that  they  represent  the  perfection  of  Rose  Bartlett's 
art!  Now,  will  you  be  good!" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A  CALL  IN  BUCKEYE  LANE 

"GoiNG  out,  mamma?" 

"Rather  think  so,  Phil!"  replied  Lois. 

It  was  the  week  after  the  visit  to  the  farm,  and  Phil, 
who  was  now  scratching  away  furiously  on  a  short  story, 
had  opened  her  mother's  door  late  in  the  afternoon  to  find 
that  lady  contemplating  with  unusual  gravity  a  frock  she 
had  flung  across  the  bed  for  inspection. 

"What  are  you  up  to,  Phil?" 

"Up  to  my  chin  in  ink,"  replied  Phil,  holding  up  a  fore- 
finger empurpled  from  the  ink  she  was  affecting.  She  had 
read  in  a  literary  note  that  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of 
contemporaneous  women  novelists  always  used  purple  ink. 
Phil  was  spreading  a  good  deal  of  it  over  legal  cap  purloined 
from  her  father's  office.  Kirkwood  was  just  now  in  town,  and 
he  had  called  her  on  the  telephone  to  invite  her  to  supper 
with  him  at  the  Morton  House,  an  arrangement  which  she 
disclosed  to  her  mother. 

"Your  father's  home  again?"  Lois  asked  indifferently. 

"Yes.  He  has  something  to  do  here  about  those  bonds  of 
Charlie  Helton's.  It  sounded  rather  complicated;  and  he 
wants  to  see  Fred,  and  Amy  was  to  call  him  into  town." 

Lois's  mind  was  upon  the  gown.  She  compressed  her  lips 
as  she  continued  to  scrutinize  it.  It  was  a  gown  from  Paris 
and  a  very  handsome  one.  Having  decided  that  it  suited 
her  purposes,  she  brought  out  a  hat  that  matched  it  and 
tossed  it  onto  the  bed. 

"How  do  you  think  I 'd  look  in  those  things?" 

"Adorable!  Shall  I  order  up  the  machine?" 

"Urn,  no:  I'll  walk,  I  think." 

"I  rather  take  it  that  I'm  not  invited,"  laughed  Phil. 


374  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"Bless  me,  no!  I  have  a  call  to  make  that  wouldn't 
interest  you." 

Phil  walked  to  the  bureau  —  a  new  one  of  mahogany 
that  had  been  among  her  mother's  recent  substitutions  for 
the  old  walnut  with  which  the  house  had  been  rilled.  The 
folder  of  a  steamship  company  lay  sprawled  open  across  the 
neatly  arranged  toilet  articles.  Phil  picked  it  up  idly,  and 
noted  certain  pencilings  that  caused  her  heart  to  give  a 
sudden  bound.  She  flung  round  upon  her  mother  with  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

"You  are  not  —  not  thinking  of  that!" 

Lois  walked  over  to  her  and  kissed  her.  She  took  Phil's 
face  in  her  hands,  looking  into  her  eyes  steadily. 

"You  dear  chick,  you  would  care!" 

"Oh,  you  mustn't!  You  must  not!"  Phil  cried.  "And 
you  have  been  thinking  of  it  and  not  telling  me!  And  just 
when  I  thought  we  understood  everything." 

" I  meant  to  tell  you  to-day:  I  really  did.  It  was  n't  easy. 
But  I  Ve  got  to  go,  Phil.  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  have  n't 
stayed  too  long!  You  know  I  never  meant  to  stay  forever." 

"Then  you  have  n't  been  happy  here!  You  don't  —  you 
don't  like  me!" 

Lois  sank  into  a  chair  by  the  window  and  drew  the  girl 
down  beside  her.  Phil  gripped  her  mother's  hands  tight, 
and  stared  into  her  face  with  tear-filled  eyes. 

"It's  as  hard  for  me  as  it  is  for  you,  Phil.  But  we  may 
as  well  have  it  out.  I  've  taken  passage  for  the  first  Saturday 
in  June,  and  it 'snot  far  off.  Some  friends  are  spending  the 
summer  in  Switzerland  and  I  'm  going  to  join  them.  It  was 
half-understood  when  I  came  here." 

"It's  hard;  it's  unkind,"  Phil  whispered.  The  fact  that 
her  mother  had  planned  flight  so  long  ahead  did  not  mitigate 
the  hurt  of  it.  Nothing,  it  seemed,  could  ever  be  right  in 
this  world!  And  she  had  just  effected  all  the  difficult  read- 
justments made  necessary  by  her  mother's  return!  She  had 
given  herself  so  unreservedly  to  this  most  wonderful  of 
women !  Lois  was  touched  by  her  show  of  feeling. 


A  CALL  IN  BUCKEYE  LANE  375 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  stroking  Phil's  brown  head.    "I 
have  had  thoughts  of  taking  you  with  me.   That  would  be 


"Oh,  if  you  only  would!  I '11  be  very  good  —  a  lot  nicer 
than  you  think  I  am  if  you  will  take  me." 

"No!"  said  Lois  sharply,  but  with  a  slight  quaver  in  her 
voice  that  caused  hope  to  stir  in  Phil's  breast. 

"You  had  n't  any  right  to  come  back  and  make  me  love 
you  and  then  run  away  again!  It  is  n't  kind;  it  is  n't  just!" 

"You  would  n't  love  me  much  longer  if  I  stayed!  You 
would  n't  love  me  very  long  if  I  carried  you  off.  You  've 
seen  the  best  of  me :  I  've  shown  you  my  best  box  of  tricks. 
I  don't  wear  well,  Phil;  that's  the  trouble  with  me." 

She  rose  abruptly  and  drew  Phil  to  her  feet,  with  an  effort 
at  gayety. 

"As  it  is  we  really  love  each  other  a  lot,  and  it  would  be 
hazardous  for  me  to  stay  longer.  When  I  saw  the  first  blos- 
soms in  the  cherry  tree,  I  knew  it  was  time  to  go.  I  used  to 
feel  that  way  when  I  was  a  child  —  as  though  I  just  could  n't 
bear  to  stay  any  longer.  I  remember  the  days  and  hours 
when  I  used  to  fight  it,  away  back  there  when  I  was  a  school 
girl.  There  must  be  gypsy  blood  in  me.  I  can  go  on  being 
just  as  you  have  seen  me  —  lazy  and  comfortable  for  a  long 
time,  and  then  the  thing  becomes  intolerable.  It 's  the  cause 
of  all  my  troubles,  one  of  the  wobbles  in  my  wobbly  char- 
acter. But  now  that  I  know  what 's  the  matter  —  that  it 
is  n't  just  malaria  —  and  that  the  curse  or  whatever  it  is 
will  pass  in  time,  I  suppose  it  is  n't  a  weakness  any  longer, 
because  I  know  just  what  to  do  for  it.  How's  that,  Phil, 
for  philosophy!" 

"Oh,  you're  so  dear,  so  wonderfully  dear!"  cried  Phil, 
touching  her  mother's  cheeks  lightly  with  her  hands:  "and 
we  have  had  such  good  times;  and  I  thought  we  should  go 
on  forever,  just  chumming;  and  you  have  stirred  me  all  up 


376  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

about  doing  things,  working  —  how  am  I  ever  to  go  on 
trying  without  you?" 

"Nothing  could  keep  you  from  going  on  and  doing  things; 
you  will  do  great  things.  It 's  in  you.  I  think  maybe  it 's  the 
wildness  in  me  that  has  taken  this  turn  in  you.  You  have 
more  brains  in  a  little  minute  than  I  ever  had:  you  are 
amazingly  clever  and  wise.  I  'm  glad  it  was  left  for  me  to 
discover  it;  that's  one  credit  I've  got  on  the  Good  Book." 

There  was  a  new  sweetness  and  a  wistfulness  in  her 
gravity  that  did  not  escape  Phil.  Phil  knew  that  she  could 
not  change  her  mother's  decision.  Lois  was  already  preening 
her  wings  for  flight.  Like  a  migratory  bird  she  was  moved 
by  an  irresistible  call  to  other  lands  and  other  summers. 
Phil  felt  the  strong  columns  of  her  young  life  totter;  but 
they  did  not  fall,  and  she  knew  they  would  not.  It  was  a 
sad  business,  viewed  in  any  light,  but  life,  Phil  had  realized 
since  Christmas  brought  her  mother  back  to  her,  was  not  a 
holiday  affair. 

"  I  'm  only  a  foolish  butterfly  down  there  in  the  garden," 
Lois  was  saying.  "I  can't  stop  long  anywhere.  If  I  did  I'd 
make  mischief.  Trouble!"  She  threw  up  her  hand  and 
snapped  her  fingers.  "What  a  lot  of  trouble  I  've  caused  in 
this  world !  I  'm  causing  some  right  now ;  I  know  it :  and  it 
has  worried  me  a  lot.  And  before  I  flit  I  Ve  got  to  straighten 
things  out  a  little.  Don't  worry :  I  'm  not  going  to  do  any- 
thing foolish." 

She  presented  her  back  for  Phil  to  unhook  her  gown ;  and 
proceeded  to  array  herself  in  the  Paris  frock,  which  she  had 
never  worn  before. 

"By  the  way,  Phil,  I  subscribed  to  a  clipping  bureau  so 
you  could  see  how  far  your  dog  piece  traveled,  and  it's  being 
quoted  all  over  creation.  Some  paper  calls  it  inimitably 
droll,  which  I  think  rather  nice.  You'll  find  a  bunch  of 
clippings  in  my  second  drawer  there.  Be  sure  and  show 
them  to  your  father,  and  don't  fail  to  keep  him  in  touch  with 
your  work:  he  can  help  you  once  he's  aroused  to  what  you 
can  do.  By  the  way,  you  must  boil  the  slang  out  of  your 


A  GALL  IN  BUCKEYE  LANE  377 

system.  It 's  charming,  but  it  won't  do.  First  thing  you  know 
it  will  be  slipping  in  to  your  ink-pot  and  corrupting  your 
manuscripts.  You  know  better;  I  don't!  As  you  go  on 
Nan  Bartlett  can  probably  save  you  a  good  many  bumps: 
she 's  a  clever  woman.  I  read  her  book  twice,  and  I  can 
point  out  everything  your  father  put  into  that  tale.  There 's 
not  much  of  him  there;  only  one  of  his  dry  jokes  now 
and  then.  Don't  imitate  anybody;  write  about  things  you 
see  and  feel.  One  reason  I  'm  not  going  to  take  you  away 
with  me  is  the  danger  of  spoiling  your  American  point  of 
view.  Two  years  from  now  you  can  go  over  and  have  a  look ; 
we  '11  see  to  that ;  but  meanwhile  make  yourself  into  a  blotter 
that  soaks  up  everything.  I  once  met  a  literary  critic 
who  said  that  the  only  American  literature  that's  worth 
anything  or  is  ever  going  to  be  worth  anything  will  be  dug 
right  out  of  the  soil.  I  did  n't  know  then  that  I  had  a 
little  digger  in  my  own  family!  No;  the  other  gloves;  and 
get  me  the  pink  parasol  —  the  one  with  the  white  handle." 

She  was  deftly  thrusting  the  pins  through  her  hat  before 
the  oval  mirror  which  had  been  one  of  her  acquisitions.  As 
she  drew  on  the  gloves  she  turned  her  supple  body  to  make 
sure  of  the  satisfactory  hang  of  her  skirt.  Her  good  spirits 
had  returned,  and  she  hummed  softly  as  Phil  surveyed  her. 
She  seemed  less  indifferent  to-day  to  Phil's  admiration. 
Phil's  spirits  rose  slowly;  it  was  difficult  to  mourn  in  this 
radiant  presence. 

Lois  had  exercised  all  her  arts  in  preparing  for  this  myste 
rious  call.  She  looked  astonishingly  well !  -  and  amazingly 
young!  Dressing  had  always  been  to  Phil  one  of  the  nui- 
sances and  troubles  of  life.  Her  aunts  had  so  annoyed  her  by 
their  fussiness,  and  their  efforts  at  self-embellishment  had 
so  disgusted  her  that  it  had  been  a  revelation  to  find  her 
mother  making  herself  into  charming  pictures  with  so  few 
strokes  and  so  blithe  an  indifference  to  results. 

Phil  watched  Lois  to  the  gate,  delighting  in  her  easy, 
graceful  step;  following  the  pink  dot  of  the  parasol  as  it  was 
lost  and  found  again  through  the  greenery.  Lois  sauntered 


37»  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

toward  the  college  and  Phil  turned  into  the  house,  speculating 
as  to  her  destination.  Her  mother's  general  spontaneousness 
and  inadvertence  had  led  Phil  to  the  belief  that  Lois  withheld 
nothing;  it  was  inconsonant  with  her  understanding  of  Lois 
that  there  should  be  any  recesses  where  the  sun  did  not 
strike  upon  glittering  mirrors  in  the  long  corridors  down 
which,  in  Phil's  adoration,  her  mother  was  forever  loitering. 

Students  encountered  near  the  campus  turned  their  heads 
for  a  second  glance  at  Lois,  thinking  her  a  new  girl  in  town 
who  had  escaped  their  vigilance.  She  walked  through  Buck- 
eye Lane  to  the  Bartletts' ;  lowered  her  parasol  as  she  passed 
under  the  maples  in  the  yard ;  bent  over  the  lilacs  that  over- 
flowed upon  the  path,  and  smiled  at  the  drumstick  as  she 
took  it  in  hand  to  announce  herself. 

Nan  opened  the  door.  If  she  was  surprised  to  find  Mrs. 
Holton  on  her  threshold,  her  manner  did  not  betray  the  fact. 
Mrs.  Holton  owed  her  a  call  —  a  call  which  by  the  social 
canons  was  slightly  overdue. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Nan  cordially. 

It  was  cool  and  pleasant  in  the  little  cottage.  (Houses  in 
Montgomery  are  always  pleasant  and  cool  on  the  warmest 
days !)  Lois  sank  into  a  seat,  her  eyes  taking  in  the  room  at 
a  glance.  The  flute  on  the  music  cabinet  and  the  'cello  be- 
side the  piano  did  not  escape  her.  On  the  table,  where  pre- 
sumably Nan  performed  her  literary  labors,  lay  the  week's 
darning.  There  was  no  denying  the  essential  domesticity  of 
the  atmosphere.  Lois  vaguely  remembered  that  room  from 
the  days  when  Professor  Bartlett  was  living,  and  she  had 
been  a  frequent  visitor,  delighting  in  the  cookies  and  rasp- 
berry shrub  that  were  the  inevitable  items  of  Bartlett  hospi- 
tality when  youngsters  were  about. 

"I'm  sorry  Rose  isn't  here;  she's  spending  the  day  in 
Indianapolis,"  Nan  observed. 

"I  knew  that.  That's  why  I  came  to-day,"  replied  Lois, 
smiling.  "I  wished  to  see  you  alone." 

They  exchanged  the  quick  glance  called  for  by  this  state- 
ment. Nan  nodded. 


A  CALL  IN  BUCKEYE  LANE          379 

"  I  shall  be  leaving  very  soon,"  Lois  remarked,  holding  her 
parasol  at  arm's  length  and  whirling  it  idly. 

" I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  Nan  replied. 

She  shook  the  bracelet  down  upon  her  round  white  arm 
with  her  accustomed  gesture,  rested  her  elbow  on  the  writing- 
table,  and  waited.  She  had  just  come  in  from  a  walk  and  was 
clad  in  a  blue  wash  waist  and  dark  skirt.  She  was  immedi- 
ately conscious  of  the  perfections  of  Lois's  raiment,  noting  its 
points  from  silk  hose  and  modish  pumps  to  the  utmost  tip 
of  the  feather  on  the  beguiling  Paris  hat. 

Nan's  imagination  was  at  work  upon  the  situation:  Tom 
Kirkwood's  former  wife  had  come  to  call  upon  her,  and 
wished  to  see  her  alone ;  and  Tom  Kirkwood  was  in  love  with 
her,  and  she  would  have  married  him  had  not  this  lovely 
apparition  returned  to  shake  her  resolution.  In  the  way  of 
people  who  write  she  began  to  view  the  encounter  with  un- 
conscious detachment.  She  was  not  to  remain  long  in  doubt 
as  to  the  purpose  of  Lois's  visit. 

"  I  am  going  abroad  for  an  indefinite  stay.  I  may  return, 
of  course,  now  and  then,  but  just  to  pass  the  time  of  day. 
Montgomery  will  never  be  my  home.  Amzi  and  Phil  — 

A  smile,  a  slight  movement  of  her  head,  a  lifting  of  the 
hand  completed  the  sentence. 

"They  are  strong  ties,"  Nan  replied,  smiling  in  return. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  how  deeply  grateful  I  am  to  you  and 
your  sister,  for  your  kindnesses  to  dear  Phil.  In  these  years 
that  I  have  been  gone  you  and  Rose  have  been  "  —  she  hesi- 
tated—  "like  mothers  and  grown-up  sisters  to  her.  The 
result  speaks  for  itself.  Without  you  those  sisters  of  mine 
would  have  made  a  fool  of  her." 

"Oh,  Phil  could  n't  have  been  spoiled!"  exclaimed  Nan. 

"Anybody  might  be  spoiled,"  Lois  insisted.  "  I  'm  rather 
a  sad  example  of  the  spoiled  child  myself.  I  speak,  you  see, 
from  a  weight  of  experience!" 

The  smile  continued  in  lips  and  eyes.  She  was  tremendously 
at  ease  and  her  ease  was  disconcerting. 

"  Phil  has  kept  us  delighted  and  bewildered.  She  was  born 


380  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

with  understanding;  there's  genius  in  the  child!"  said  Nan, 
with  warmth. 

"Ah!  I  knew  you  realized  that!  Tom"  —  she  spoke  her 
discarded  husband's  name  unwaveringly,  smiling  still  — 
"Tom  has  not  quite  taken  her  at  full  value,  though  he  has 
been  —  splendid.  Amzi  has  been  a  dear  angel  to  her,  —  but 
even  he  has  never  fully  taken  in  the  real  Phil.  But  here,  in 
this  house"  —  she  looked  about,  as  though  the  more  fully 
to  place  the  room  in  evidence  —  "you  have  taken  her  into 
your  hearts !  And  she  needed  the  oversight  of  women  —  of 
women  like  you  and  Rose.  You  have  been  her  great  stimu- 
lus, the  wisest  of  counselors.  It  seems  almost  as  though  I 
had  left  her  on  your  doorstep !  I  am  not  so  dull  but  that  I  see 
it  all." 

Nan  colored  deeply.  Lois's  suggestion,  so  bluntly  put,  that 
she  had  cast  her  child  upon  the  Bartletts'  doorstep  aroused 
uncomfortable  memories.  After  an  instant's  reflection  Nan 
said :  — 

"Phil  and  her  father  have  been  unusually  close;  I  don't 
believe  Mr.  Kirkwood  has  failed  at  any  point  in  duty  or 
sympathy.  He  is  immensely  proud  of  her  development." 

"Yes.  But  —  he  is  not  a  woman!  And  there's  a  differ- 
ence, if  I  have  n't  forfeited  my  right  to  an  opinion  on 
that  point!" 

She  skirted  the  fringes,  the  B»m  borders  of  the  past  with 
the  lightest  step.  She  fumbled  the  keys  of  the  closed  doors 
as  though  they  were  silver  trinkets  on  a  chatelaine.  In 
Nan's  consciousness  they  seemed  to  tinkle  and  jingle  softly 
in  the  quiet  room. 

"  I  thought  of  taking  Phil  away  with  me,  to  see  the  world," 
—  Nan  felt  a  sudden  tightening  of  the  throat  —  "but  I 
have  decided  against  it.  That  will  come  later.  In  the  work 
she  wants  to  do  it  is  better  for  her  to  stay  here.  If  she 
learns  Montgomery  she  will  know  the  world!  Does  that 
sound  a  little  studied?  I  am  not  a  maker  of  phrases  —  far 
from  it!  But  she  has  splendid  talents?"  she  ended  question- 
ingly. 


A  GALL  IN  BUCKEYE  LANE  381 

Phil  has  the  best  mind  of  any  girl  I  ever  knew:  she  takes 
my  breath  away!"  cried  Nan. 

"So!    I  knew  you  would  n't  fail  me  there!" 

"We  all  realize  it:  we  expect  great  things  of  her,"  added 

Nan. 

Lois  bent  toward  her  with  her  winning  manner.  She  drew 
the  parasol  across  her  lap  and  clasped  it  in  both  hands. 

"That  is  why  I  am  appealing  to  you;  that  is  what  brought 
me  here  to  see  you  —  alone.  I  am  leaving  Phil  here  with 
you  because  —  because  it  is  so  much  better  for  her  to  be 
with  you  than  with  me !  You  have  done  my  work  for  me — 
oh,  we  won't  discuss  that!  I  know  it  all.  You  must  credit 
me  with  some  little  understanding  before  we  go  further!" 

Just  where  that  "further"  was  to  lead,  Nan  could  not 
guess.  She  murmured  something  to  the  effect  that  Mrs. 
Holton  was  far  too  kind. 

"There  is  every  reason  why  I  should  be  kind,"  Lois  re- 
torted. "And  this  brings  me  to  a  rather  more  serious  matter, 
and  one  —  one  I  am  not  broaching  without  reason.  I  want 
to  speak  of  Tom! "  she  flashed.  The  smile  had  left  her  face; 
her  lovely  eyes  were  very  grave. 

"There  is  nothing  that  we  need  say  about  Mr.  Kirkwood," 
said  Nan,  reddening  and  stirring  uneasily. 

"Please  do  not  say  that!  This  is  an  important  moment 
in  your  life  and  mine.  And  I  must  speak  to  you  of  Tom  be- 
fore I  go  away.  We  are  not  children  —  you  and  I.  You  are  a 
woman  and  a  very  noble  one  and  —  you  must  let  me  say  it  — 
I  have  been  one  of  the  worst.  There 's  no  finer  man  in  the 
world  than  Tom ;  I  never  knew  that  until  I  had  flung  him 
away.  And  it's  only  because  of  you  and  Phil  that  he  found 
himself  again.  I  know  it  all  as  clearly  as  though  I  had  been  here 
every  day  of  all  these  years.  You  picked  up  the  broken  pieces 
and  made  a  man  of  him  again  —  you  and  Phil.  And  you  very 
much  more  than  Phil !  I  've  come  to  tell  you  that  I  'm  grate- 
ful for  that.  He  deserves  well  of  the  world.  He  loves  you; 
he  wants  to  marry  you.  If  I  had  n't  come  back  just  when 
I  did,  you  would  have  married  him." 


382  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

She  knelt  beside  Nan  with  lifted  face.  There  were  tears  in 
her  eyes. 

"Don't  you  see  —  don't  you  understand  —  that  that  is 
the  only  way  I  can  be  happy?  I  'm  not  saying  this  for  your 
sake  —  and  only  half  for  Tom's.  It 's  the  old  selfish  me  that 
is  asking  it,"  she  ended,  smiling  once  more,  though  with 
brimming  eyes. 

Nan  turned  her  head. 

"  I  can  never  do  it !  It 's  not  fair  for  you  to  speak  to  me  of 
him." 

"Oh,  don't  I  know  that!  But  I  never  in  my  life  played 
fair!  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  you  won't  say  no  to 
him !  He  is  started  on  the  way  up  and  on  once  more :  I  want 
you  to  help  him  gain  the  top.  He  needs  you  just  as  Phil 
does!  You  have  already  been  to  him  what  I  never  could 
have  been.  It  is  all  so  easy  and  so  plain!  And  in  no  other 
way  can  I  be  right  with  myself.  I  shall  never  trouble  you  by 
coming  back !  Phil  can  come  to  me  sometimes  —  I  'm  sure 
you  will  not  mind  that!  And  I  shall  find  peace  that  way! 
For  Phil's  sake  you  and  Tom  must  marry!" 

"Phil  loves  you  so,"  said  Nan;  "you  have  no  right  to 
leave  her;  you  don't  know  what  you  mean  to  her!" 

"I'm  only  a  pretty  picture  in  a  book !  She 's  too  keen ;  she  'd 
see  through  me  very  soon.  No!  It  must  be  my  way,"  she 
said,  with  a  little  triumphant  note.  She  rose  and  turned  to 
pick  up  her  parasol. 

Nan  watched  her  wonderingly,  for  an  instant  dumb  be- 
fore the  plea  of  this  woman,  so  unlooked-for,  so  amazing  in 
every  aspect.  Lois  touched  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes 
and  thrust  it  into  her  sleeve. 

"Now  that's  all  over!"  she  said,  smiling. 

"No;  it  can't  be  over  that  way,"  returned  Nan,  quite 
herself  again.  "For  a  day  I  thought  I  could  do  it,  but  I'm 
grateful  that  you  came  back,  for  your  coming  made  me  see 
what  a  mistake  it  would  have  been.  There 's  no  question  of 
his  needing  me.  If  I  helped  him  a  little  to  find  himself,  I  shall 
always  be  glad,  but  he  has  tasted  success  now,  and  he  will 


A  GALL  IN  BUCKEYE  LANE  383 

not  drop  back.  And  as  for  Phil,  it  is  absurd  to  pretend  that 
she  needs  any  one.  The  days  of  her  needs  are  passed,  and 
she  is  at  the  threshold  of  happy  womanhood.  I  am  glad  you 
came  when  you  did,  for  I  see  now  how  near  I  was  to  losing 
some  of  my  old  ideals  that  would  have  made  the  rest  of  my 
life  one  long  regret." 

"Those  scruples  are  like  you — like  what  I  know  to  be  true 
of  you;  but  you  are  wrong.  I  believe  that  in  a  little  while 
you  will  see  that  you  are." 

"No,"  continued  Nan;  "I  know  they  are  not  wrong.  I 
am  ashamed  of  myself  that  I  ever  wavered,  but  now  I  know 
I  shall  never  be  tempted  again.  I  may  seem  tojDe  taking 
myself  too  seriously  "  —  she  smiled  in  her  accession  of  assur- 
ance —  "but  I  have  a  feeling  of  greater  relief  than  I  dare 
try  to  explain.  I  am  provincial  and  old-fashioned,  and 
there  are  things  I  can't  bring  myself  to  think  of  lightly.  I  sup- 
pose the  prejudices  of  my  youth  cling  to  me,  and  I  can't 
dissociate  myself  from  the  idea  that,  inconspicuous  as  I  am 
in  the  general  scheme  of  things,  I  have  my  responsibility 
to  my  neighbors,  to  society,  to  the  world.  I  am  grateful  that 
I  saw  the  danger  in  time  to  save  myself.  Your  coming  back 
was  well  timed;  it  makes  me  believe"  —  she  added  softly 
—  "that  there  is  more  than  a  fate  in  these  things.  I  had 
misgivings  from  the  first ;  I  knew  that  it  was  wrong ;  but  not 
till  now  have  I  seen  how  wrong  it  was!  And  I  want  you  to  be 
sure  that  this  is  final  —  that  I  shall  never  waver  again." 

"  But  in  a  little  while,  when  I  am  safely  out  of  the  way  - 

"Your  going  or  coming  can  make  no  difference.  I  can  say 
in  all  sincerity  that  I  wish  you  would  stay.  I  think  it  would 
mean  much  to  Phil  if  you  should.  I  hope  you  will  change 
your  decision.  You  must  understand  that  so  far  as  Mr.  Kirk- 
wood  and  I  are  concerned  there  is  no  reason  whatever  for 
your  going." 

Lois  drew  a  line  in  the  rug  with  the  point  of  her  parasol, 
her  head  bent  in  an  attitude  of  reflection. 

"As  for  Tom  and  me,"  she  said,  meeting  Nan's  eyes  after 
an  instant,  "it's  only  right  for  you  to  know  from  me  that  he 


384  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

has  given  me  another  chance.  He  has  offered  to  try  me  again ! 
It  was  for  Phil's  sake.  It  was  generous  —  it  was  noble  of 
him!  But"  —  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  —  " I  Ve  caused 
enough  misery.  Not  in  a  thousand  years  would  I  do  it!" 

Nan  nodded,  but  made  no  reply.  It  was  enough  that  she 
had  established  her  own  position,  and  nothing  that  Lois 
could  add  really  mattered.  And  Lois,  with  her  nice  sense  of 
values,  her  feeling  for  a  situation,  knew  that  the  interview 
was  at  an  end. 

A  copy  of  the  May  number  of  "Journey's  End"  lay  on  a 
little  stand  with  other  magazines.  Her  hand  rested  upon  it 
a  moment,  as  though  she  thus  referred  everything  back  to 
Phil,  but  even  this  evoked  nothing  further  from  Nan. 

Lois  walked  to  the  door,  murmuring  nothings  about  the 
weather,  the  charm  of  the  flowering  yards  in  the  Lane. 

At  the  door  she  caught  Nan's  hands,  smiled  into  her  eyes, 
and  said,  with  all  her  charm  of  tone  and  manner:  — 

"You  will  kiss  me,  won't  you!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

AMZI'S   PERFIDY 

IN  accommodating  himself  to  the  splendors  of  the  en- 
larged bank  room,  Amzi  had  not  abandoned  his  old  straw 
hat  and  seersucker  coat,  albeit  the  hat  had  been  decorated 
with  a  dab  of  paint  by  some  impious  workman,  and  the  coat 
would  not  have  been  seriously  injured  by  a  visit  to  the 
laundry. 

Amzi  was  observing  the  new  facade  that  had  been  tacked 
onto  the  building,  when  Phil  drove  up  in  the  machine.  This 
was  the  afternoon  of  the  3d  of  July.  Phil  and  her  father  were 
camping  for  a  week  in  their  old  haunt  in  Turkey  Run,  and 
she  had  motored  into  town  to  carry  Amzi  to  his  farm,  where 
he  meant  to  spend  the  Glorious  Fourth  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  wheat  Fred  had  been  harvesting. 

Phil  had  experienced  a  blow-out  on  her  way  to  town,  a 
fact  to  which  the  state  of  her  camping  clothes  testified. 

"Thunder!"  said  Amzi;  "you  look  as  though  you  had 
crawled  halfway  in." 

"A  naughty  nail  in  a  bridge  plank  was  the  sinner,"  she 
explained. 

She  jumped  out  and  was  admiring  the  alterations,  which 
had  eliminated  the  familiar  steps  to  the  old  room,  when 
Mrs.  Waterman  emerged  from  a  neighboring  shop. 

"You  dear  Phil ! "  she  cried  effusively.  "  I've  been  wanting 
to  see  you  for  weeks!" 

Her  aunt  caught  and  held  the  brown  hand  Phil  had  drawn 
from  her  battered  gauntlet. 

"Father  and  I  are  out  at  the  Run,"  Phil  explained. 

These  were  the  first  words  she  had  exchanged  with  either 
of  her  aunts  since  Christmas.  She  was  not  particularly 
interested  in  what  her  Aunt  Josephine  might  have  to  say, 


3  86  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

though  somewhat  curious  as  to  why  that  lady  should  be 
saying  anything  at  all. 

"I  can't  talk  here,"  Mrs.  Waterman  continued,  seeing 
that  Amzi  lingered  in  the  bank  door.  "  But  there  are  things 
I  want  to  discuss  with  you,  Phil,  dear." 

Main  Street  is  hot  on  July  afternoons;  and  Phil  was  im- 
patient to  get  back  to  the  cool  hollows  of  the  Run. 

"Oh,  any  time,  Aunt  Josie,"  she  replied  hastily. 

"It's  only  fair  —  to  myself,  and  to  Fanny  and  to  Kate, 
for  me  to  say  to  you  that  we  never  meant  —  we  never 
had  the  slightest  intention  —  in  regard  to  your  dear  mo- 
ther- 

"Oh,  don't  trouble  about  that!"  said  Phil.  "Mamma 
never  minded!  And  please  excuse  me;  Amy's  waiting." 

She  nodded  good-bye,  and  walked  through  the  bank  to 
the  new  directors'  room  where  Amzi  was  subjecting  himself 
to  the  breezes  of  an  electric  fan. 

"Indian!" 

"I  haven't  mussed  you,"  observed  Phil,  placing  her 
gloves  on  the  new  mahogany  table,  "since  you  started  up 
the  new  bank.  It's  about  time  we  were  celebrating." 

He  threw  up  his  arms  to  ward  off  the  threatened  attack, 
and  when  he  opened  his  eyes  and  peered  out  she  was  sitting 
on  the  table  with  the  demurest  of  expressions  upon  her 
countenance. 

"False  alarm;  only  I  object  to  your  comments  on  my 
complexion.  I  'm  some  burnt;  but  as  it  is  n't  painful  to  me, 
the  rest  of  creation  need  n't  worry." 

"Well,  you  need  n't  kick  the  legs  of  that  table  with  your 
sneakers;  that  table  cost  money!" 

"Really!  Woeful  extravagance.  Did  you  see  Aunt 
Josephine  holding  my  hand?" 

"I  did,"  replied  Amzi.   "What's  eating  Josie?" 

"She  seemed  to  want  to  kiss  and  make  up.  I  excused 
myself  owing  to  the  heat  of  the  day." 

"Humph!  I'll  tell  you  something,  Phil,  if  you'll  sit  in  a 
chair  and  be  nice." 


AMZI'S  PERFIDY  387 

She  sat  in  a  chair  and  was  nice. 

"I  was  brought  up,"  said  Amzi,  "to  believe  in  heaven. 
Ever  hear  of  the  place?" 

"I  have,"  said  Phil;  "and  no  thanks  to  you." 

He  ignored  the  fling  as  unworthy  of  his  attention,  and 
continued  soberly,  — 

"I  never  expected,  in  all  the  years  I've  been  attending 
Center  Church,  that  I  'd  ever  see  anybody  on  earth  that  had 
a  pass  right  through  the  pearly  gates;  but  I  guess  I  know 
one  woman  that's  got  a  ticket,  with  stop-over  privileges, 
and  a  seat  in  the  observation  car  —  all  stamped  and  good 
for  any  date.  That  woman,  Phil,  is  your  mother.  That 
idea 's  been  in  my  mind  a  good  deal  lately  and  I  thought  I  'd 
mention  it." 

Phil's  face  assumed  an  unwonted  gravity.  Her  mother's 
departure,  in  all  the  circumstances  of  her  going,  had  still  its 
poignancy.  Phil  had  been  brave,  but  it  had  cut  deep.  She 
did  not  reply  to  her  uncle's  remark,  but  waited  for  him  to 
go  on.  He  drew  out  a  cigar,  satisfied  himself  that  it  was  in 
good  condition,  and  returned  it  to  his  pocket. 

"The  day  she  left,  your  mother  wrote  out  three  checks 
for  five  thousand  bucks  —  one  for  each  of  your  aunts.  She 
told  me  not  to  turn  them  over  until  she  had  landed  on  the 
other  side.  Thunder!  After  everything  they  had  done  to 
her  and  tried  to  do  to  her,  she  did  that  I" 

He  waited  characteristically  for  her  to  deny  the  facts  he 
had  stated.  A  look  of  great  tenderness  came  into  Phil's 
face. 

"Said  she  did  n't  want  any  unkind  feelings.  Said  it  was 
all  right  the  way  they  acted.  Right/"  he  repeated  contempt- 
uously. "I've  known  men  —  and  women  —  some;  but  I 
can't  beat  that!  And  the  day  the  cable  came  saying  she'd 
got  to  Cherbourg,  I  called  'em  down  in  a  bunch  and  gave 
'em  the  checks.  You've  noticed  that  your  Uncle  Lawrence 
has  turned  his  theater  into  a  moving-picture  shop  with  a 
yellow-haired  girl  selling  tickets  at  the  gate;  and  your 
Uncle  Paul  has  given  notice  that  he 's  going  to  start  the  brick- 


388  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

yard  again.  He's  got  contracts  to  keep  him  going  for  six 
months.  And  your  Uncle  Waterman  's  started  in  to  pay  a 
few  of  his  debts  on  the  installment  plan.  That's  all  your 
mother's  money." 

A  wan  smile  flitted  across  Phil's  face. 

"What  you  laughing  at?"  Amzi  demanded. 

"Nothing,"  said  Phil;  "only  I  seem  to  remember  that  I 
once  said  something  to  Lawrence  about  cutting  out  the 
drammer  and  putting  on  the  reel.  And  Paul  and  I  had  some 
talk  once  about  bricks  — "  she  ended  meditatively. 

"Your  ideas,  both  of  'em,  I  bet!"  declared  Amzi  furiously. 
"I  thought  those  fellows  never  had  that  much  sense  all  by 
themselves." 

"  Oh,  nothing  like  that!"  replied  Phil. 

"I  just  thought  I  ought  to  tell  you  what  your  mother  did. 
Lois  did  n't  say  for  me  not  to  tell  you.  I  guess  she  thought 
I  most  likely  would." 

"I'm  glad  you  did,  Amy.  Everything  I  know  about 
mamma  makes  me  love  her  that  much  more." 

Amzi  turned  to  push  the  regulator  on  the  fan,  and  when 
it  had  ceased  humming  he  rested  his  arms  on  the  table  and 
said:  — 

"Seems  Nan's  not  going  to  marry  your  father,  after 
all?" 

"No,  that's  all  over,"  she  answered  indifferently. 

"It  was  fine  of  your  mother  to  want  them  to  marry." 

"Yes,  it  was  like  her.  She  is  wonderful  about  every- 
thing, —  thinks  of  everything  and  wants  everybody  to  be 
happy." 

Phil  clasped  her  crossed  knees  in  her  hands,  and  did  not 
meet  her  uncle's  eyes.  The  ache  in  her  heart  that  was  not 
to  be  stilled  wholly  through  many  years  cried  aloud. 

"Nan  is  a  splendid  woman  and  a  mighty  good  friend  to 
all  of  us.  And  your  father 's  got  a  new  shove  up  the  ladder, 
and  is  doing  splendidly.  Nan  did  a  lot  for  him!" 

Phil  loosened  her  hands  and  they  fell  helplessly  to  her 
sides. 


AMZFS  PERFIDY  389 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "I  don't  understand  all  these  things, 
Amy !  If  mamma  had  n't  come  back,  Nan  and  daddy  would 
have  married;  but  I  don't  see  how  they  could!  It's  clear 
beyond  me  how  people  see  things  one  way  one  day  and 
another  way  the  next.  What's  the  matter  with  all  of  us 
anyhow,  that  right  is  n't  always  right?  In  old  times  people 
mostly  got  married  and  stayed  married,  and  knew  their 
minds,  but  nowadays  marriage  seems  so  purely  incidental. 
It's  got  to  be  almost  ree-diculous,  Amy." 

"Well,  Phil,  I  guess  we  all  do  the  best  we  can.  I  guess 
we  can't  see  very  far  ahead  in  this  world."  And  then  he 
smiled  grimly.  "I  guess  we  never  know  when  we're  going 
to  get  a  puncture.  There's  got  to  be  patches  on  the  tire 
before  we  get  home." 

She  gave  a  little  shrug  that  she  had  learned  from  her 
mother  and  walked  over  to  him.  She  clasped  his  chin  in 
her  fingers  and  tilted  his  head  so  that  she  looked  straight 
through  his  spectacles  into  his  eyes. 

"Let's  stay  on  the  bank;  the  swimming's  dangerous!" 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  he  blurted,  fearing  that 
a  mussing  was  imminent. 

"Getting  married!   But  you  — 

She  turned  his  head  the  better  to  search  his  face  for  tell- 
tale signs. 

"You  beautifulest  of  old  sinners,  how  about  Rose?" 

He  jerked  himself  free  and  pushed  away  from  her  with  a 
screeching  of  the  new  chair's  casters. 

"Thunder!"  he  gasped.   "Don't  you  ever  think  that!" 

"Sure  you're  not  fooling!"  she  demanded,  amused  at  the 
look  of  horror  in  his  face. 

He  drew  out  his  handkerchief  and  mopped  his  face.  His 
manner  was  that  of  a  man  who,  having  heard  bad  news,  has 
just  been  assured  of  its  falsity. 

"  I  guess,"  he  said,  "if  I  was  fool  enough  —  at  my  age  - 
Rose  would  n't  be.   I  've  got  along  so  far,  and  I  guess  I  can 
pull  through." 

"Then,"    said    Phil    cheerfully,    "we'll    pull    through 


39°  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

together!  This  marriage  business  does  n't  look  good 
to  me!" 

"Thunder!"  He  looked  at  her  narrowly.  "I  wish  to  the 
Lord  I  could  keep  you" 

"Watch  me!  You  know  we're  going  abroad  next  summer 
to  see  mamma ;  that 's  a  date.  I  guess  you  '11  keep  me  all 
right  enough  until  you  get  tired  of  me,  or  I  break  the  bank ! 
But  why  chat  we  here?  Let's  set  the  gasoline  alight  and  ho 
for  the  well-hoed  fields  of  corn!" 

Phil  carried  a  bundle  of  mail  to  her  father  to  which  he 
addressed  himself  after  the  supper  they  cooked  for  them- 
selves in  the  camp  in  their  old  fashion.  Amzi  scorned  their 
invitation  to  join  them,  as  he  frankly  confessed  his  inability 
to  find  joy  in  sitting  on  a  boulder  and  drinking  coffee  out  of  a 
tin  cup.  He  preferred  the  comforts  of  his  own  farmhouse  and 
Fred's  society. 

Phil  had  promised  to  visit  him  later,  and  finding  that 
her  father  became  engrossed  immediately  in  an  engineer's 
report  on  the  Illinois  traction  property,  she  stole  away. 

She  took  the  familiar  ascent  slowly,  pausing  now  and  then 
to  listen  to  the  murmur  and  rush  of  the  waters  beneath. 
From  the  top  of  the  cliff  she  called  down  to  assure  her  father 
of  her  safety.  The  dry  stubble  of  the  newly  cut  wheat 
was  rough  underfoot  as  she  set  off  for  Amzi's.  There  was 
much  sowing  and  reaping  in  the  world,  she  philosophized, 
and  far  too  much  chaff  in  the  garnered  grain!  Life,  that 
might  be  so  simple  if  every  one  would  only  be  a  little  bit 
reasonable,  unfolded  itself  before  her  in  dim,  bewildering 
vistas. 

Fred  had  started  to  meet  her,  and  she  saw  his  stalwart 
figure  against  the  fading  west. 

"Mr.  Montgomery  is  getting  nervous  about  you;  he  said 
for  you  to  hurry!  The  fact  is  that  I  bored  him  and  he 
needs  you  to  cheer  him  up." 

"Which  is  fishing,"  Phil  replied.  "I  had  the  dishes  to 
wash.  There's  a  lot  to  do  in  a  camp." 


AMZI'S  PERFIDY  391 

"You'd  better  not  mention  the  dishwashing;  that's  what 
made  him  cross." 

"Cross!  Dear  old  Amy  cross!"  laughed  Phil.  "Why, 
Fred,  he  does  n't  know  how  to  spell  the  word! " 

They  followed  a  lane  beside  a  cornfield,  talking  spiritedly. 
Fred  paused,  lifted  his  head  and  filled  his  lungs  with  the 
fresh  cool  air.  It  was  with  a  sense  of  elation  that  he  traversed 
these  fields  of  his  own  tilling  and  sowing  and  reaping.  There 
was  something  in  his  bronzed  face  that  had  not  been 
there  when  Phil  first  knew  him.  He  carried  his  shoulders 
straighter  and  was  less  timid ;  he  expressed  himself  with  more 
confidence  and  was  beyond  question  on  very  good  terms 
with  the  world.  At  every  meeting  they  had  somehow  seemed 
to  make  progress;  they  really  got  on  famously  together  now 
that  he  was  no  longer  shy  in  her  company  and  had  caught  the 
spirit  of  her  humor. 

She  had  wondered  frequently  whether  she  was  in  love 
with  him.  Her  speculations  had  been  purely  subjective ;  she 
had  not  been  concerned  in  the  least  with  his  attitude  toward 
her.  It  had  occurred  to  her  in  other  moods  that  he  would  be 
an  interesting  character  in  a  book  and  she  had  even  jotted 
down  notes  which  would  have  astonished  him  greatly  if  he 
had  been  vouchsafed  a  glance  at  those  amazing  memoranda. 
Viewed  objectively  he  was  an  attractive  protagonist  for  a 
story  dealing  with  the  return  to  the  soil  of  a  young  man,  who, 
trying  city  life  without  success,  sought  refuge  in  the  fields 
of  his  ancestors.  The  heroine  must  be  a  haughty  city  girl 
whose  scorn  should  yield  slowly  to  admiration  and  love. 
The  last  chapter  of  the  tale  should  be  called  "The  Harvest." 
She  thought  well1  of  the  idea,  and  meant  to  sketch  an  out- 
line of  it  as  soon  as  she  finished  a  short  story  about  the 
young  gentleman  who  presided  over  the  soda-fountain  at 
Struby's,  the  simple  chronicle  of  whose  love  affair  with  the 
cashier  at  Bernstein's  she  was  just  now  transcribing  for 
"Journey's  End." 

A  new  incident  for  that  delectable  yarn  now  popped 
into  her  head.  Fred  was  talking  about  the  corn  which  had 


39*  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

nothing  whatever  to  do  with  Struby's  or  the  cashier  at  Bern- 
stein's. She  stopped  and  whistled  as  the  revelation  of  new 
possibilities  in  her  story  flashed  upon  her. 

"What's  the  matter,  Phil?" 

"Nothing,"  she  answered.  "  I  just  thought  of  something! " 

Phil  rested  her  arms  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence  and  lifted 
her  eyes  dreamily  to  the  glowing  planet  that  for  the  mo- 
ment reigned  alone  in  the  heavens.  But  her  thoughts 
were  in  Main  Street,  not  in  Jupiter.  The  inspector  on. the 
trolley  line  —  the  one  with  the  red  mustache,  the  one  who 
had  punched  the  head  of  a  conductor  for  disputing  the  jus- 
tice of  a  reprimand  for  which  the  inspector  had  been  respon- 
sible —  he  must  certainly  be  brought  into  the  story.  She 
was  disgusted  with  herself  that  it  had  never  occurred  to  her 
before.  The  adored  cashier  should  enter  the  drug-store  to 
refresh  herself  with  a  chocolate  sundae,  and  the  inspector 
should  follow  — " 

"Phil,"  said  Fred. 

Phil,  intent  upon  her  characters,  did  not  respond.  She  did 
not  know  that  her  face  lifted  to  the  bright  planet  had 
quickened  his  pulses,  roused  a  thousand  longings  in  his  heart. 

His  hand  stole  along  the  rail  until  it  touched  hers.  In 
her  deep  absorption  she  did  not  notice  it,  or  pretended  that 
she  did  not;  but  when  he  took  a  step  nearer  she  drew  her 
hand  away  gently.  The  star  held  her  gaze  as  though  it  pos- 
sessed some  mesmeric  power.  A  smile  was  upon  her  face 
as  the  situation  at  the  soda-water  counter  took  form,  be- 
came a  veritable  drama  in  her  imagination. 

She  struck  her  hands  together  and  chirruped.  Fred  stared 
at  her,  abashed.  His  hand  lay  where  it  had  been,  but  her 
warm  slim  ringers  had  slipped  away!  When  Phil  was 
"thinking"  she  wholly  bewildered  him.  Just  as  a  girl,  the 
loveliest  in  the  world,  Phil  was  far  enough  removed  from 
him;  but  as  a  girl  who  "wrote,"  who  improvised  verses,  who 
was  caught  away  as  by  invisible  hands  in  her  fitful  dreaming, 
she  deepened  his  humility.  He  had  often  wondered  whether 
he  would  ever  gain  courage  to  touch  her  hand  in  just  that 


AMZI'S  PERFIDY  393 

way ;  and  now  that  he  had  dared  it  had  profited  him  nothing 
She  had  apparently  been  wholly  unmindful  of  an  act  that 
had  left  him  trembling.  She  had  n't  even  resented  it! 

^"Phil,  I've  been  looking  forward  to  seeing  you  all  day. 
I  ve  been  thinking  about  you  —  particularly." 

"That 'snot  so  surprising,"  replied  Phil,  returning  to 
earth  a  little  reluctantly,  "when  I  've  been  seeing  you  every 
evening  and  it  was  pretty  sure  to  happen  so  to-day.  Let 's 
hurry  along  or  Amy  will  say  bitter  things  to  us  that  he  will 
always  regret." 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something  before  we  go  on,"  he  said, 
with  a  gravity  that  caused  her  to  look  at  him  sharply. 

"Fred  Hoi  ton,  you  and  I  are  old  friends  now,  and  good 
pals.  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  spoil  it  all." 

"I  love  you,  Phil;  I  can't  help  telling  you:  I  have  to  tell 
you  now." 

She  reached  down,  picked  up  a  pebble  and  flung  it  at  the 
star. 

Assured,  by  the  sound  of  its  fall  afar  off  in  the  corn,  that 
it  had  missed  Jupiter,  she  gave  him  her  attention.  He  broke 
in  before  she  could  speak. 

"I  know  there  are  reasons  why  I  should  n't  tell  you.  I 
want  you  to  know  I  have  thought  about  them;  I  know  that 
there  are  family  reasons  why — " 

She  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm. 

"  Dear  old  Fred,"  she  began,  as  a  boy  might  have  spoken 
to  a  comrade  in  trouble,  "there's  nothing  about  you  that 
is  n't  altogether  fine.  The  thing  you  were  about  to  say  you 
don't  need  to  say  —  ever!  If  Amy  did  n't  know  you  were 
one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world,  he  would  n't  have  got 
behind  you  when  things  were  going  wrong.  He  knew  all 
those  things  that  are  in  your  mind  and  he  did  n't  care,  and 
you  may  be  sure  I  don't.  So  that's  all  right,  Fred.". 

His  hope  mounted  as  she  spoke.  The  hand  on  his  arm 
thrilled  him.  The  fact  that  he  was  a  Holton  did  not,  then, 
make  any  difference,  and  he  had  been  troubled  about  that 
ever  since  he  realized  how  dear  she  had  grown  to  him. 


394  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"You've  all  been  mighty  good  to  me.  If  it  had  n't  been 
for  your  father  and  Mr.  Montgomery,  I  should  have  lost 
the  farm.  I  'm  better  off  than  I  ever  expected  to  be  and  I  owe 
it  all  to  them.  It's  a  big  thing  when  a  fellow's  clear  down 
and  out  to  have  helping  hands  like  theirs.  I  don't  know  how 
to  say  these  things,  but  I  love  you,  Phil.  You  don't  know 
what  it  has  meant  to  know  you  —  how  thinking  about  you 
makes  the  day's  work  easier  as  I  tramp  these  fields.  I  know 
I  ought  n't  to  ask  a  girl  like  you  to  share  a  farmer's  life, 
but  I  '11  be  so  good  to  you,  Phil !  And  I  mean  to  go  on  and 
win.  You've  made  the  world  a  different  place  for  me,  Phil. 
I  know  what  a  poor  clod  I  am,  but  I  mean  to  study  and  to 
try  and  measure  up  to  you." 

"Cut  out  that  last  proposition,  Fred!  I'm  the  harum- 
scarumest  girl  on  earth  and  I  know  it.  I  'd  be  a  real  handi- 
cap to  you,  or  any  other  man.  Gracious!  Why  did  n't  you 
tell  me  you  were  going  to  make  love  to  me  and  I  'd  have 
put  on  my  other  suit.  I  '11  never  forgive  you  for  this,  Fred 
Hoi  ton;  it's  taking  an  unkind  advantage!" 

"I  don't  believe  you  think  I  mean  it!"  he  cried  despair- 
ingly, as  her  gaze  wandered  across  the  fields  to  the  far 
horizon. 

"If  I  thought  you  didn't,  I  should  never  speak  to  you 
again,"  she  declared  severely,  meeting  his  eyes. 

"The  corn  was  glad 

When  he  had  told  his  love.  The  evening  star 
Chortled  in  joy.     The  cattle  on  the  hills  — 

Oh,  come  on,  Fred,  and  let's  stop  foolishing!" 

" Please,  Phil?  If  only  you  cared  a  little! "  he  pleaded  for- 
lornly. 

"A  little !  I  care  a  whole  lot  about  you !  I  respect  you  and 
admire  you;  and  I  suppose,  to  be  real  frank  about  it,  I  love 
you  a  little  tiny  bit.  But  as  for  marrying  you  or  anybody 
else  —  that's  different,  oh,  very  different!  You  see,  Fred," 
she  continued,  abruptly  abandoning  her  half-chaffing  tone, 
"the  ice  is  too  thin;  it  makes  me  shudder  to  think  of  it! 


AMZI'S  PERFIDY  395 

Instead  of  people  being  settled  when  they  get  married  it 
seems  to  make  them  nervous.  I  'm  going  to  study  and  work 
and  work  and  work!  I  want  to  see  what  kind  of  a  life  I  can 
build  up  for  myself  —  and  then  I  want  to  stand  off  and  look 
at  it  —  a  good  long  look  before  I  allow  anybody  else  to 
have  a  share  in  it.  That's  all  of  that,  Fred  " 
"But,  Phil." 

As  she  started  toward  the  house  he  stepped  quickly  in 
front  of  her.  The  shadows  deepened  round  them,  and  the 
wind  whispered  in  the  corn.  The  rattle  of  a  wagon  descend- 
ing Listening  Hill  reached  them  faintly  and  Phil  lifted  her 
head  at  the  vague,  blurred  sound.  After  her  brave  speech  a 
mood  of  loneliness  swept  her  heart,  and  the  cheer  with 
which  she  had  lately  fortified  herself  against  depression  failed 
to  respond  to  her  summons.  She  had  no  control  over  the  lives 
of  her  mother  and  father.  The  one  beyond  the  sea  was  not 
more  hopelessly  remote  than  the  other  in  his  camp  by  the 
creek.  They  and  all  the  others  who  were  near  and  dear  — 
Amzi,  even,  and  Nan  and  Rose  —  seemed  strangely  beyond 
her  reach.  The  fields,  the  woodlands  etched  darkly  against 
the  sky,  suddenly  became  Fred's  allies.  He  was  of  kin 
to  them;  he  had  confessed  in  their  later  talks  to  a  simple 
spiritual  faith  born  of  contact  with  the  earth,  the  study  of  its 
secrets,  the  pondering  of  its  mysteries.  With  him  there  would 
be  peace  and  security.  Her  heart  ached  with  tenderness 
and  longing.  The  qualities  her  nature  lacked  he  supplied, 
and  love  and  faith  like  his  were  not  lightly  to  be  put  aside. 
Fred  in  the  dusk  before  her  took  form  in  her  mind  as  a  refuge 
and  hope.  He  was  big  and  strong  and  kind ;  he  loved  her  and 
it  was  sweet  to  be  loved  by  him.  He  took  her  hands,  that 
fluttered  and  became  still  like  two  forlorn  birds ;  and  then  her 
arms  stole  round  his  neck  in  a  tight  clasp. 

"Dear  Fred!"  she  cried,  half-sobbing;  "don't  you  ever 
leave  me!" 

A  little  later,  as  they  walked  hand  in  hand  toward  the 
house,  he  pointed  toward  the  creek. 


396  OTHERWISE  PHYLLIS 

"You  see,  Phil,  about  your  work,  I've  thought  all  that 
out.  I  want  you  to  go  on  with  it.  I  Ve  planned  a  kind  of 
studio  for  you  over  there,  in  that  clump  of  trees  on  the  edge 
of  the  Run.  I  'm  going  to  build  a  little  bungalow,  all  glass  on 
the  creek  side,  where  you  can  study  and  write,  while  I  'm 
off  making  the  corn  grow.  And  in  the  evenings  we'll  go 
out  there  and  sit  and  talk.  I've  thought  a  lot  about 
that." 

"  But,  you  goose,  that  won't  be  helping  you  any,  the  way  a 
farmer's  wife  has  to  help  her  husband.  I  won't  be  of  any  use 
to  you,  writing  pieces  for  editors  to  fire  back  at  me." 

"They  won't  send  them  back;  and  if  they  do,  I'll  punch 
their  heads." 

"And  daddy  can  live  with  us,  can't  he  —  always,  Fred? 
Where  we  are  will  be  home  for  him!" 

"Yes ;  of  course,  Phil.  I  've  thought  about  that,  too.  I  Ve 
thought  about  almost  everything.  And  I  'm  not  afraid  of 
life,  Phil,  —  not  with  you.  Out  here  in  the  fields  it's  differ- 
ent from  anywhere  else,  and  easier.  Those  old  stars  are 
closer,  some  way,  here  in  the  country.  You  Ve  got  more 
room  to  think  in,  and  it  is  n't  a  narrow  life,  but  a  broad  one 
when  you  consider  it.  You've  taught  me  to  understand 
all  that,  Phil !  I  believe  you  feel  a  good  deal  about  it  as 
I  do,  and  the  work  you  want  to  do  ought  to  be  better  for 
being  done  out  here  where  the  corn  grows  tall.  We  won't 
stay  here  always.  We  '11  go  off  in  the  winters  and  look  at  the 
big  world,  and  come  back  home  to  study  it  over.  And  we  '11 
try  to  do  a  little  good  as  we  go  along." 

"Yes;  we  mustn't  forget  that,  Fred." 

His  simple  way  of  speaking  of  things  that  meant  much  to 
him  had  always  touched  her.  Her  pressure  tightened  on  his 
hand  and  he  bent  and  kissed  her. 

"But,  Fred ! "  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  as  they  loitered  on, 
"Amy  will  be  awfully  cross.  We'd  planned  to  go  abroad 
next  summer,  and  he  won't  forgive  me  if  I  get  married  so  I 
can't." 

"Oh,  don't  you  worry  about  him!" 


AMZI'S  PERFIDY  397 

"Of  course  I'll  worry  about  him;  why  shouldn't  I?"  she 

demanded. 

"Because  I  told   him  I  was  going  to  ask  you,"  Fred 

laughed,  "and  he  said  'Thunder'  and  blew  his  nose  and 

wished  me  good  luck!" 

"When  did  all  that  happen,  if  you  please,  sir?" 
"Last  Sunday.  We  talked  about  you  all  afternoon." 
"And  he  said  —  oh,  the  hypocrite!"  she  cried;  and  then 

declared  resolutely,  "I'm  going  to  muss  him!    Come  on, 

Fred;  I'll  race  you  to  the  house!" 


THE   END 


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